


Catenary Chain

by chaya



Series: It's Not Linear [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Boundary Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Food Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 77,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Circling Back. (Reposted after accidental deletion.) Bucky continues recovering. So does Steve, although he's less aware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapters 1 through 37 are getting re-uploaded after an accidental deletion. Sincere apologies to anyone who'd bookmarked, linked, or otherwise connected to the original version.))

Bucky's gotten up from the couch to grab some snacks when Natasha comes in - without explanation she commandeers Bucky, waiting just long enough for him to get the bowl of grapes together before leading him out to the patio and shutting the doors. They settle outside by the pool somewhere out of Steve's eye line, and it's only because of his enhanced hearing that he can hear traces of animated talking in Russian. Steve's cheeks turn pink and he focuses his attention on finding a new channel to settle on.

"Steven Rogers," someone says from the doorway, and of course it's Sam. Steve looks over his shoulder and witnesses the biggest, most shit-eating grin he has possibly ever seen in his life. Steve cringes a little, pleased but self-conscious.

"Did Clint send out a mass text or something?"

"It's a giant futuristic robot Tower filled with spies." Sam shrugs. "Don't ask how people know stuff. Just assume they know stuff." He vaults over the back of the couch and lands next to Steve, crossing his arms and laying back as if ready to listen to a long and epic tale.

"Well, I'm sure the robots and spies gave you more than enough details, so I don't need to fill you in on anything." Steve makes a smooth retreat to the kitchen, picking out some more fruit for another smoothie. Sam throws a well-aimed couch cushion at him from the common area. "Hey, not the back. I was shot there, you know."

"There's a joke there," Sam says, and when Steve around to give him a dirty look Sam breaks out in laughter. "I'm just kidding, man, you don't have to talk about all that. Just let me know it went okay."

Steve nods, calculating a moment, and then lets himself smile a little. "It... it went okay."

"And it's still going okay?"

"It's very okay so far."

"Alright." Sam smiles brightly, turning his attention back to the television long enough for Steve to pick the cushion up and throw it at Sam's head.

Bucky and Natasha come back inside. Bucky stops halfway to the couch, spotting the flipped-over whiteboard and the messy scrawl that fills it, squinting. "What the hell is all that?"

**

"It's weird," Bucky says, when they're making lunch.

"That we can tell everyone?"

"It feels like we're announcing we've been robbing banks or something."

"I agree, it's a little surreal. That sandwich is too tall to ever fit in your mouth, Bucky."

"We'll see about that." Bucky's tongue swipes over his lips, making a show of it, as he adds another layer of turkey. "Seriously, though, it's - it's really strange."

Steve hums agreement. "I never imagined a world where you'd - where you'd be interested in me, let alone one where we wouldn't have to hide it."

"Well, not from our friends at least."

The idea of coming out to the world floors Steve for a moment, and he forces himself to focus on finishing making his meal before having some kind of unnecessary panic attack. Later, he tells himself. He can deal with such an idea much, much, much later.

"Natasha gave me a bunch of stuff."

Steve blinks. "Stuff?"

"I don't know." Bucky says. "She gave me a wrapped up box. It rattled like it had a bunch of things... do people give presents now when their friends get into relationships?"

"I have a feeling this is a Natasha-exclusive behavior."

"Don't say it like that. Nat's good. I can talk to her about... aw, shit."

"What?" Steve follows after Bucky as he retreats to the dining table, setting his over-sized sandwich down and putting his head in his hands. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

Bucky laughs hollowly. "I just remembered I got a teleconference today. That's gonna... be weird."

"I'm sure you'll be fine." Steve goes back to the kitchen to retrieve his own plate and both their drinks. "Hey, I bet ... if you're talking about relationship stuff, awkward as that may be, that'll probably take the whole hour."  _Meaning you won't have to talk about Hydra_ , he doesn't say, but the meaning is clear. Bucky brightens so instantly and so intensely it's actually a little heartbreaking.

**

Peter's a little awkward during training a few hours later. His attention lingers on Steve when he walks in, and his preoccupation is obvious when he needs Bucky to repeat instructions on the sequence of movements. The others don't seem to notice, or maybe they aren't concerned by it. Tony is using his tablet to remotely tell the large, five-by-five panels on top of the gym mats when to vibrate and shake. When one of them pistons up and launches Peter a few feet in the air, Peter throws a cord of webbing up to the ceiling, but it doesn't stick - Tony giggles to himself. Bruce whacks him half-heartedly on the shoulder.

"You never said you'd start using it without telling him first," Bruce is mildly concerned until he sees Peter abandon the attempt to web to safety, dropping into a roll instead and falling about fifteen feet as gracefully as possible. (Steve recognizes the technique from a few sessions ago. Peter was paying attention.) Bucky claps him on the back when he gets up.

"It's important to teach him to improvise, right?" Tony's grin fades when Bruce takes the tablet from him, scanning the options. "What're you doing?"

"Trying to see if there's a panel underneath your chair I can launch you up with..."

**

When everyone else has filed out, Bucky puts a hand on Peter's shoulder and turns him around. "Do we need to talk about anything?"

"Talk?" Peter looks at Bucky, then follows Bucky's pointed gaze to Steve. "Uh."

"There's plenty of other people here who can train you if you want." Bucky says it so flat, so matter-of-fact, but Steve knows as soon as he says it that if Peter took him up on that and switched him out for anyone else, Bucky would be destroyed. Steve holds his breath.

"No! No, you're great." Peter glances at Steve. "But I didn't know about you two until you left last night and everyone started  _laughing_ as soon as the elevator doors closed. I got, um, kinda mad and asked them what was so funny about you feeling bad, and they told me, um, that that wasn't what was going on."

Peter probably can't detect the soft smile around Bucky's eyes, but Steve can. "So nothing's bothering you?"

Peter rubs the back of his neck. "Not really. I  _am_ kinda bummed out that you two can't have babies. I just -  _imagine the babies you two would have. Tiny adorable star-spangled babies who would kick epic amounts of ass_." Peter halts his wild gesticulation and trails off in the face of Steve's blankly horrified expression. "I'm just saying, I am a  _really_  good baby-sitter, and I'm slightly disappointed."

**

Natasha and Tony are sunbathing in the afternoon, and the weather is too nice for Steve not to join them. When Bucky discovers them, he disappears, coming back moments later in his swim trunks and pulling a chaise lounge up to Steve's until they're pressed together.

"Mm?" Steve asks, because he's too comfortable and happy with his life right now to bother with words.

Bucky hums neutrally, laying down on his side and curling his right arm over Steve's chest. Some time passes, and when Bucky and Steve both take in deep breaths and let out sighs at the same time, it's unintentional.

"Sun cuddling," Tony says, somewhere to their left. "The latest sport at the Avengers Tower. American duo Rogers and Barnes are the returning champions, coming in strong with the patented Dual Lovers-Bliss Sigh that should ensure their place in the semi-finals..."

"I don't care how jealous you are, Stark, I'm not going to cuddle you."

"Oh no, Natasha, I'm just in the spectator box. Where's my tablet, actually? I could do score cards."

"Shuddup," Bucky says against Steve's rib cage, and Steve can feel the smile against his skin.


	2. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> _Some quick notes:_
> 
> 1\. There were a few requests for the playlist on the dance party in Circling Back, Chapter 38. I finally put it together and posted it [here](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/88618321341/circling-back-chapter-38s-playlist) if you want to see!  
> 2\. This will not be updated as frequently as Circling Back was, as you've probably already noticed. I'm going to aim for updates twice a week.  
> 3\. There are going to be substantial amounts of fluff and smut. That's just what needs to happen for a while. It just does. I hope you are okay with this.  
> 4\. The smut I mentioned earlier? This chapter is exclusively that.

 

Bucky wants to go to bed early, for reasons that do  _not_  escape Steve in the least, but Steve insists on eating dinner with everyone else and only skipping the movie afterward. He explains, via covert texting, that every moment spent around others while holding Bucky's hand or smiling openly at him is starting to chip away, just a little, at the fear that something terrible will happen. Steve is honestly surprised that Bucky doesn't have the same inclination. Maybe he feels like everyone already knows a much darker secret about him.

When Pepper comes to the dining table, she's smiling, hand brushing Steve's shoulder and then Bucky's as she passes them. Some shaky part of Steve's heart settles, just a little.

**

"Which room?" Steve asks, when they make it down the hallway. Bucky pulls Steve toward his own room again, almost tripping over the box on the floor.

"Shit, I forgot I left this here." Bucky laughs and kicks the door shut once Steve's inside, kneeling down to tug on the scarlet ribbon. Steve examines the color, and then the subtle heart design on the wrapping paper, the size of it, and feels his stomach sink.

"Bucky, I think I know what she got us."

"Smells like... creams? And paper. There's books. And... rubber? Something rubbery?" Bucky crinkles his nose in the universal sign for 'the future is weird' before tugging the corners of the cardboard box open. Steve takes a seat in the chair at the desk to begin digesting the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment. Bucky is silent, and when Steve makes himself look over to check on him he has removed one item - white, short, strangely shaped, slightly more bulbous on one end.

"Is it a...? But why's it so  _weird_  loo- oh." Bucky squints at the packaging. "It's supposed to do stuff to your prostate."

"Oh my  _God_." Steve lays his arms and head wearily on the desk. The lust has dissipated. There is only shame.

"Hey, don't be such a wet blanket. Maybe it's nice. And there's lots of other... huh." More rummaging sounds. "What's-" A buzzing sound. "Oh. Oh!" Bucky laughs delightedly, a sound that only manages to cut through about half of Steve's internal agony, and the buzzing sound stops. "God, they didn't have anything like this back home."

"How would  _you_  have known?" Steve mumbles, suddenly overcome with an odd jealousy. He'd never thought of it before - what if Steve isn't the first man Bucky's been with?  _Why should that matter?_

"Some of the dames had a few things," Bucky says vaguely. There's the sound of a cap popping open, and then Steve can smell cherries. He winces. "Don't be such a scaredy cat. Nothing in here's going to bite you."

"Will one of the books in there tell me how to deal with this without risking a coronary?" The self-deprecating joke brings a laugh out of Bucky.

"Um, I think the books are about positions, but they're not... strictly... medically helpful positions." Upon hearing the sound of flipping pages, Steve looks over to see Bucky scanning something with a very explicit cover of two people engaged in coitus. "I haven't done... most of these."

"But you've done some of them?"

Bucky shrugs. "All of these can be done with girls, there's - oh, there's an all girls chapter at the end, and the all guys one is in the middle, soooo...." Flip, flip. Bucky's eyebrows lift, mouth curving into a giant smile.

"Whatever it is, I'm probably too self-conscious to do it."

"No, no, I'm in the all girls chapter." He captures his lower lip between his teeth and smirks, enjoying whatever the picture is. Steve makes an affronted noise and plucks the book from him, shutting it and setting it on the table.

"Can we  _please_  try to do... normal things... before trying to be Olympians about it?" Steve winces at how conservative it sounds, but really, he feels slightly out of his depth all of a sudden.

Bucky frowns and reaches out, grabbing Steve by the pant leg and tugging him until he joins him on the floor. He gets up onto his knees, holding Steve's face and kissing him deeply. His mouth is hot and slick, tongue sliding into Steve's mouth and making him shudder. Bucky sighs into his next breath and pulls back.

"What if I show you," Bucky says, softly, "how to be straddled and kissed on the floor."

"I'm an old man now, Buck." Steve smiles. "Maybe the bed?"

Bucky snorts. "Traditionalist." He gets up, pulling Steve to his feet as well before pushing him backwards and chasing after him. His belt buckle digs a little into Steve's abdomen when he presses in tight to tongue the shell of Steve's ear, but Steve cannot bring himself to care even a little. The feeling is overwhelming, more so by the minute, and when Bucky grazes his teeth and tugs, Steve moans.

" _Love_  that," Bucky murmurs, his breath hot, and moves his mouth down to the spot behind Steve's earlobe. Steve shivers.

"Wh-what?"

"All the sounds you make." Bucky's fingers thread through Steve's hair. "How sensitive you are." He sinks his teeth in to the flesh just a touch, testing, and Steve inhales sharply. Deciding to take some initiative, he reaches out and grabs Bucky's ass, encouraging him to rest at least some of his weight on him.

"Is this okay?" Steve breathes.

"Yeah, just." Bucky sounds like he doesn't want to talk about it. "I'm on top, it'll be fine." Bucky brushes his lips across Steve's throat, to where his collarbone pokes out from his shirt, and then sits up to start wrestling it off of him. He laughs when Steve starts pulling at Bucky's next, and obligingly tugs it off by the hem and throws it to the side. At a glance, he looks like his old self, just with longer hair and more muscle tone. When Steve looks closer he can see the white scars along his shoulder like rays of the sun, jagged, blending into smooth skin that's soft under Steve's wandering hands.

"You're beautiful."

Bucky squirms. "Shuddup."

"No." Steve beams and pulls him down for another kiss. Bucky rolls his hips appreciatively, and Steve manages to work his hand between them to cup Bucky's crotch and squeeze as he licks along the cupid's bow of Bucky's mouth. Bucky moans, squirms encouragingly, and lets Steve into his mouth. Steve can feel Bucky hardening behind his palm and it makes him a little more confident, almost powerful. Suddenly Bucky bats his hands away from him, and Steve flinches back into the mattress, pulling his mouth away to see what's wrong, but Bucky's just panting, yanking his jeans open and pulling himself out.

"It was getting cramped in there." Bucky looks at him through his lashes, and Steve is pretty sure the way he's biting his lower lip is intentional.

"Any plans for it?" Steve breathes, suddenly feeling more constricted himself now that he thinks about it.

"Nah, nothing particular." Bucky crawls backward on his knees, just far enough so that when he bends slowly forward, his mouth hovers over the button of Steve's jeans. "You're usually the ideas guy."

Steve pants, watching with curiosity, and it's not until Bucky's lips brush against he fine hair on his abdomen that he realizes Bucky means to undress him with his teeth. "Jesus, Buck."

Carefully, and with an efficiency that makes Steve realize he's done something like this before, Bucky tugs the button open and grins back at him. "That's not an idea. That's a statement."

"Well, give a guy a minute to plan out..." Steve blanks out as Bucky lowers the zipper impossibly slowly. It looks  _sinful,_ the way he does it, and Steve can feel himself getting past hard and into a category he doesn't have a name for, because Bucky's still maintaining eye contact. Steve's erection is tenting his boxer briefs, the thin fabric leaving nothing to the imagination, and to his shock Bucky doesn't move the boxer briefs at all - he just nudges the flap of the jeans aside and mouths wetly at Steve's erection through the fabric, licking and sucking until the cotton is damp with spit and precome. "Bucky, I can't -"

"'Course you can." Bucky's tone is dark, sultry, teasing. He's enjoying this. "You've always been great at improvising. Takin' the lead." 

" _Please_ ," Steve begs, and feels the fabric of the sheets tightly under his fingers. His body begins to bow up towards the physical contact that's left, but Bucky only reaches up and pins him down by the shoulders, letting his hips drag their way up Steve's knees, thighs, and crotch as he moves up to look Steve in the eye. Steve can feel the warmth from Bucky's own erection, and he wants desperately to get them both naked but knows that whatever this game is, Bucky's leading and he's got to figure out the rules.

"Please what?" Bucky asks innocently, and Steve moans. He wants him to say it.

"Anything," Steve admits, and hooks a leg around Bucky's thigh to draw him in closer. In one sharp movement Bucky twists his leg out further, pinning Steve's, as if it were nothing. Bucky tilts his head.

"I'm gonna need a little something to go on, Stevie."

Oh  _God_ , he wants specifics. Steve shuts his eyes and tries to think of what to say. "Please," he begins, and rests his hands on Bucky's hips, thumbs hooking into the space between denim and hipbone. "Please take all of this off."

"You or me?"

"Both."

Steve loses his grip on Bucky when he gets off of Steve and to his feet, his thumbs tracing the lines of his hipbones to push down the jeans, the open boxers, bending down and stepping out of his clothes. When he stands up one eyebrow is quirked, as if to ask Steve if he likes what he sees, before Bucky crawls back onto the mattress and curls his fingers around Steve's belt loops, tugging him up to get him to lift his ass off the bed before inching the clothes off achingly slowly. The drag of denim against the bare flesh of Steve's legs feels intimate, dirty even, in a way he wouldn't have been able to imagine. He does his best to use the time to his advantage and gather his thoughts, knowing Bucky just wants to rile him up beyond words. He's too stubborn for that.

The jeans and boxer briefs pool at his ankles, and Bucky grabs a handful and tugs them off of Steve, throwing them to the side. He then climbs up, mouth brushing against Steve's shoulder, and smiles.

"And now?"

Steve looks him in the eye and wills his voice to remain steady. "I want you to sit back against the headboard." He sits up, watching Bucky shift into position an with one one leg drawn up, one stretched out in a comfortable sprawl. There's a thin sheen of sweat on him and Steve wishes he could draw him like this. Every line of him is beautiful. "And now I... I want you to tell me if you get uncomfortable."

Steve watches Bucky's eyes as he moves forward, drifting away from his gaze to drink in different parts of Steve's body. He blushes, overwhelmed by the attention, and focuses on his task - kissing down Bucky's chest, mouth lingering on a nipple until he finds out just how much teeth, just how much tongue makes Bucky arch towards him, before moving lower. He curls his hands over Bucky's thighs, feeling the muscles tense and relax under his hands, and goes past Bucky's stomach, mouth hovering over Bucky's erection. It's not - it's not that he thinks it's a degrading act, it's just that he's not sure what he's  _doing_ , really, and he summons up as many details from last night as he can and opts to draw his tongue from root to tip, enjoying the soft whine in the back of Bucky's throat as he does it. He works up some more spit on his tongue, keeps his hands loose on Bucky's thighs, and dips down to do it again. Back down. Bucky's tense under his hands, breathing shallowly. Steve mouths at the head, missing something gasped about his lips as he shifts to prop himself up onto one elbow and slowly take in just a little. The head is easy, and the whole thing is supposed to - supposed to hurt, or be difficult, he knows that, but he finds that just sucking on that first bit gets plenty of reaction on its own, Bucky's hips pistoning forward a few inches before Bucky can make himself hold still, and one shaky hand comes down to card through his hair.

"S'this okay?" Bucky pants, and Steve smiles around his erection.

"Mmhmm," he hums, and Bucky moans again, differently, and so Steve hums again. He finds that the fingers in his hair tremble when something's good, and when it's  _very_  good, they clench and tug his hair, which Steve is surprised to find he likes a lot. Steve gives his jaw a break and goes back to just licking, kissing, his hand on Bucky's thigh rubbing little circles as he takes in all the sensations.

He loses himself in it for a few minutes, encouraged by the way he can keep Bucky's breathing from ever quite getting even, the way precome starts to drip slowly from the tip of Bucky's cock. When the fingers in his hair start to tug him away from it, he makes a noise to convey confusion and disappointment, and for some reason that seems to arouse Bucky even further.

"Gonna," Bucky says, and that's enough explanation. Steve sits up and lets go of Bucky's leg to curl his hand around his erection, opting for the way he  _knows_  how to bring a man to satisfactory completion. Bucky all but falls forward into Steve, forehead resting on his shoulder and shoulders rising and dropping with half-breaths as Steve wets his hand with the precome and begins short, fast strokes. "Fuck, Steve." The gasp turns into a whine. Steve pumps faster, reaching blindly with his left hand to find Bucky's right. There are a few minutes of fumbling before Bucky's hand grabs his and holds it tightly, desperately for grounding, and then Bucky is cursing, bowing back, spilling into his hands and absolutely beautiful as he fights for air open-mouthed and wanton. Steve's own arousal aches in response as he strokes Bucky through the aftershocks, fingers tightly interwoven and not letting go until Bucky does.

Bucky is shaky but grinning. "Damn, Rogers." He pulls him in for a long kiss, tongue penetrating Steve's mouth deeply, over and over again. Steve trembles with it. "I think I wanna try my favorite thing on you."

"Your favorite thing?" Steve tilts his head, watching as Bucky looks down at Steve's erection as if sizing it up.

"Yeah," Bucky says distractedly, and pushes at Steve's shoulder. Steve lets himself fall, be arranged again, until Bucky's nestled between his legs. "You're pretty big, but hey, this is a learning experience, right?"

"I guess s-  _oh. Oh. Oh Buck._ "


	3. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

"This long?"

"I can't see."

Darcy hands Natasha a hand mirror, and Natasha angles it in front of Bucky so he can see the length of hair she's holding between two fingers. He looks at it, scrutinizing, and finally shrugs his shoulders. "That should be good, yeah."

It stays long enough to go just a little past his ears, but it 'opens his face up a little', Jane says, and Bruce makes an approving sound when he steps around the stray locks of hair to get to the teapot. Bucky sits patiently as Natasha cuts, always obedient, but snatches the hand mirror up from the table as soon as she says she's done, instantly animated and curious. "It feels lighter," he says, and runs his fingers through the bangs to watch how they fall back into place. Darcy giggles.

"There's  _less_  of it," she says in amused explanation, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Thanks. I can see why you're a scientist. Steve?"

"Hmm?" Steve peeks over the newspaper, pretending to only just get into the conversation.

"Whaddaya think?" Bucky ruffles the back of his hair, visibly surprised by the fluffiness, and Steve can't help but grin.

"Definitely still not regulation. Dames'll love it, though."

The girls laugh.

**

Sam says that dim sum is delicious but involves a lot of people constantly coming up to the table and offering things, and that it would be like dining in 'hard mode' for Bucky, whatever that means, so they opt for something simpler. The salmon place isn't anywhere nearby that day, but it's a workday and good weather, so there are plenty of other options out by the office buildings. Bucky pulls on his new ankle boots and meets Steve by the elevators.

"Nervous?" Steve asks.

"No," Bucky lies, and nods at Sam as he comes up. They go down together and let Bucky lead, hunting down whatever smells best. It turns out to be the kabob truck that Sam's brought him food from. He weaves through the crowds easily enough, breaking away from the safety of Steve and Sam after a while to navigate better without touching anyone, aiming for an open patch of space by the menu on the side of the truck. He looks anxious, but not so bad they need to turn back.

"Easier or harder than the shoes?" Sam asks when they catch up. Bucky works his jaw, concentrating too hard on the pictures and the accompanying names. Lamb, beef, everything is halal.

"Harder," Bucky says finally, and shifts a little closer to Steve. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pockets. "Shoe store only had one other person."

"But you're okay?" Steve subtly brushes their elbows together.

Bucky bites his lip. "I want lamb."

**

It turns out there's a real medical floor in the Tower - it wasn't nearly so extensive before the Battle for New York, but now it really does take up the whole floor, and when Pepper tells Steve it's time for a real, in-person physical, Steve has to stop himself from getting too defensive.

"Why are you telling me and not Bucky?"

"For the same reason Bucky hasn't been there yet, and has been going to Tony's lab instead." Pepper shrugs. "We can mask the antiseptic smells with some plug-in scents and maybe throw a few throw rugs on the floor, but it's still going to be a medical facility. He'll probably hate it."

Steve sighs. "You're probably right. I'll talk to him."

Bucky says yes, but he's quiet for the rest of the evening, and eventually asks who will be working on him. Steve emails Pepper, and Pepper emails back headshots and resumes - Bucky lingers much longer on the pictures, as if memorizing their faces, committing them to memory, trying to train some part of his brain to learn to see them without fear. Steve holds him tighter that night.

**

They go two days later, once everyone's flown in. The head doctor introduces himself as Hecht.

"This is the prosthetic?" The old man gestures to Bucky's left arm, and Bucky and Steve nod in unison. The man's eyes are wide, and he gestures a request for permission - Bucky swallows and holds his hand out, palm up, not moving as the man traces his fingertips all along the pale blue lines on the inside of his wrist. Faint traces of what appear to be veins. "Such detail... this is unreal."

"Tony made it," Bucky says, as if that explains everything. It kind of does. Steve notices that he only looks at Hecht when Hecht isn't looking him in the eye.

"Indeed." The man adjusts his spectacles, releasing Bucky, and clears his throat. "We have a lot of work to do today, Sergeant Barnes. I have several years of experience working with patients who've survived intense trauma, so you will not hurt my feelings if you tell me you don't like what I am doing. At no point will I do something before explaining it, and Captain Rogers will not have to leave the room at any point if you do not want him to. Are you ready?"

**

"Let's go get some rest," Steve says when they walk out. Bucky's eyes aren't dull, but they're  _alert_ , worryingly so, his mouth tight and body ramrod straight. It's been that way for the last half hour.

"I'm alright," Bucky says tightly. He walks to the nearest elevator and stares directly forward, at nothing. It's only moments later that the doors open, but Bucky doesn't seem to notice, jumping when Steve touches his arm. "I'm alright," he says again, and walks inside.

**

The lab results trickle in, some tests taking longer than others. The drugs have worked their way out of Bucky's blood, malnutrition is no longer a concern by any stretch, and the scans of the new arm show that it's not causing any stress to the rest of Bucky's skeletal system. (There are some details on healed fractures in his shoulders and upper back that indicate that at one time, long ago, that was not the case. Bucky doesn't have any memory of this.) The brain scans are being compared to the ones taken previously and will be reported on soon.

**

"And what if it's not a person? What if it's a tire you need to shoot out?"

"Then..." Peter looks down, clearly unsure. His eyes flicker to the handgun on the table. "I guess?"

Bucky nods patiently. Peter does his best for the whole hour, and becomes a decent shot at 50 yards, very fast at unloading a magazine out of anything they can throw at him, but it's clear to Steve that there's something about firearms that doesn't sit well with Peter, something Bucky knows better than to ask about. When Bucky gets Peter fine-tuned enough to perform the basics while web-slinging, the firearms training stops. Nobody asks why.

**

The Dodgers are a lost cause, and the Yankees are inexcusable, so the Mets had become the acceptable new team to root for back when it was just Bucky and Steve and Sam. Pepper starts making noises about Stark Industries box seats, and Steve watches Bucky go online, looking at the crowds and the layout of the stadium. It's clear it's too much to for him right now, but it's a good goal, something to work towards, and in the meanwhile they watch on the big screen TVs and make popcorn on the stove. Bruce joins them when he's not holed up in the lab, and once Jane and Darcy catch wind of it they join too. Darcy gets crushes on half the team almost immediately and makes up overly complex nicknames for them. Bucky teases her for it mercilessly. Steve is in a bizarre but very legitimate heaven.

**

The brain scans come back with a deluge of commentary that is completely beyond Steve. They emphasize that while the activity in his frontal lobe isn't increasing as quickly as it was, 55% of average activity is still an improvement, and as long as memories are coming back and he's getting restful sleep, they're 'on track'. The damage from electrical shock there (and to a lesser degree in the hippocampus) isn't ever going to disappear, but careful analysis shows the scarring is fading in a way that is completely atypical of normal human patients. A good sign.

Steve does some internet research on how memories are made and stored. Most of it goes over his head, but he at least feels a little lighter knowing that Bucky's never had any problems storing new memories since he got back, and that's a hopeful sign for the future.

**

Bucky reappears from a training session with Pepper smiling. He joins Steve on the couch, worming his way closer until he's laying with his back against the arm rest and his legs crossed over Steve's lap. Absently, Steve curls a hand around one ankle and squeezes genty.

"Good session?"

"She could beat the crap out of a regular person now," Bucky says proudly, and stretches. Steve watches his toes curl, can feel his calf muscles tense and relax on top of Steve's thighs.

Steve smiles. "She'd have a good chance against us freaks, too, if she was willing to roast us."

"Oh, absolutely." Bucky smirks grimly and tilts his head a little to see what Steve's reading on the tablet. There's an art show starting next week. "I think..."

"Hmm?"

"I dunno." Bucky reaches for the remote, turns on the tv, and starts flipping through channels. "She could if she really had to."

Steve hums an agreement. "If she really had to."

Bucky finds a documentary on river 'monsters' and watches it in silence. Steve reads about the art show and thinks about what it means to protect someone.

**

Steve, Jane, and Darcy are talking on the patio when Bucky comes in. He sits down, tugging his hoodie up against the morning sun and waits for a lull in the conversation to turn to Jane.

"What's the Pym project?"

"The Pym project?" Jane echoes, frowning. "I'm not familiar with it."

"But you work with Banner on lots of things."

"I do. Is it something of his?"

"Or Tony's. It's not..." Bucky frowns, and there's something about the worry lines on his forehead and between his brows that tells Steve he's struggling through one of his harder days. "Whenever Jarvis tells Tony it's time to check on it, Banner's not around. So I think they work on it together."

"Pym doesn't work here anymore." Jane frowns and looks to Darcy, who shrugs. "He was going to become a top project manager down on floor twenty, but he kept using Stark resources for his own pet projects. He ticked off the wrong people."

"Pym was not a people person," Darcy says gravely, likely doing the alliteration on purpose.

"It's probably not important." Bucky shrugs and gets back up. After a while, Darcy gets up too, and Steve and Jane continue to discuss a gallery outing over coffee. She promises to ask Banner if he wants to go the next time she sees him.


	4. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
>  _Art credit again to_[Bluandorange](http://bluandorange.tumblr.com/), whose work continues to be so so so gorgeous. If you like it, you should go pay them a compliment! (Or even request a commission.)  
>  Tony's music choice shamelessly stolen from [this fab fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJzMbJFux4w).

The phonograph and records Steve bought on eBay come in large, heavy cardboard boxes. Steve opts to hide it all in the closet until one of Bucky's bad days, and it doesn't take terribly long - when he comes back from a teleconference one afternoon he looks particularly drained, laying on the bed for a long while before finally reaching behind him to wordlessly ask for some contact.

Steve leans over, tucking in between Bucky's neck and shoulder. "I got you something," he says mischievously, and laughs when Bucky hesitates and then rolls his hips back against Steve's. "No, not - a - a real present."

Steve opens the closet with a flourish, and the phonograph and meager pile of records sitting on the floor don't look particularly impressive, now that he thinks of it, but Bucky makes an excited noise and drops onto his knees, pulling it out and examining it before placing it on the desk and moving on to the records. When Bucky gets it all set up and finally convinces Steve to dance with him, it's easier than before, in the privacy of their own space and with the comforting warmth of Bucky's chest pressed to his.

**

Steve notices it when some third-rate terrorists are trying to pull something stupid in Central Park. Spider-Man is already on the scene, but there's a need for crowd control and perhaps a couple people in the air. Iron Man, Captain America, and the Falcon come in to assist and it's over in a few hours.

"Tony, hang back."

Tony's just finished holding still so the Iron Man suit can come off of him. Now he looks over, straightening his shirt and giving a questioning look. "Cap?"

Steve points to the panels in the ready room. He counts them off from right to left. "Iron Man, Hulk, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Thor, myself, Falcon, the spot you grudgingly opened up for Spider-Man..." He points to the remaining panel. "This one?"

"Room for growth?" Tony shrugs. "They're like IKEA modules, Steve, you just add one and slide them all over a little. Hulk's is kind of pointless. It's really just got some sweatpants and a medkit, but you know, I figured it'd be kind of mean to not give him -"

"Jarvis, open this panel."

"Yes, sir."

The panel slides open to reveal a complete costume. It's a little darker than Steve's tactical uniform, almost black, with similar padding and a row of buttons on one side that is strongly reminiscent of Bucky's jacket back from the days of the Howling Commandos. Lined up on the left wall of the panel are several guns.

"I can explain."

Steve feels something like burning in the back of his mind. "You have twenty seconds."

"Okay. Uhh." Tony bites his lip. "I've never shown it to him, he has no idea, I have no plans to, like,  _make_  him-"

"You'd fucking  _better_  not."

"You are impeding on my twenty seconds! It's in case of emergency. Or, um, long-term future planning. Long, long term." Tony waves his arm as if gesturing to something on the other end of a football field. "Steve, I'm serious, if I ever tried to  _make_  Bucky join up, or do  _anything_ , actually, I'm pretty sure Pepper would strangle me in my sleep. She's like a den mother with a built-in flamethrower." He looks at Steve's face, paling a little, and takes a different tack by rolling his eyes. "Steve, there was a point where I thought  _the Tower might get overrun and he'd have to disappear_. Like, to the Bahamas or Guam something. For a decade. We had no idea that we'd get as lucky as we did, with all the higher-up Hydra baddies getting brought in; I mean, I don't mind doing the occasional clean-up of fascists considering how bad it  _could_  have been... if I had to send him off I didn't want it to be with nothing but designer jeans and one of those hoodies he's so obsessed with."

"This was going to be his low-profile outfit?"

"It can  _absorb 40% of incoming light_ and absorb falling impact up to - listen, it's cool, it's really cool, and I like making things. I'm not excusing myself for this. Hell, he can train Parker in it. Or never wear it. Or burn it. I don't care." Tony walks out.

**

Steve tells Bucky, because his bad mood is impossible to suppress and Bucky's starting to get nervous.

"Well, it's a sign he doesn't think I'm completely insane, I guess." Bucky shrugs. His lack of indignation is somehow almost as infuriating as Tony's behavior.

"You don't think it's a little presumptuous?"

"Better a uniform than a straight jacket. Relax, Stevie. I got no plans for any ops."

Steve feels a little sheepish, and maybe like an asshole, although he can't pinpoint exactly why. He drops the subject.

**

They do another family dinner. Bucky looks up recipes for roasted potatoes, adding a few things to Sam's grocery list so there will be enough garlic and rosemary.

"Your mom used to make something like this when I'd come over for dinner." Steve grins at the picture on the tablet, not missing the way Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Why d'you think I picked them, dum-dum?"

Jane makes a roast beef thing that's spiced and absolutely dripping in juices - an Earth version of one of Thor's favorite dishes back on Asgard. It's very savory, and the juices go really well with the potatoes. Thor is almost always smiling at any point, but that night he's beaming like the sun itself, getting second and third helpings and throwing his arm over Jane for huge but very gentle hugs at the table. Peter, who brought lemon bars his aunt made, is instructed to take home tupperware containers filled with leftovers. Pepper supplies the wine and sparkling cider, and Tony brings some macaroons from his business trip tour to Europe.

"What is that?" Darcy asks, pointing at Bruce's dish. She's a notorious picky eater, and Bruce smiles gently, prepared to fight a hopeless battle.

"Pasta made from zucchini, olive oil, basil, a few other things."

"Well, it looks like worms."

Bucky nudges Steve under the table a few minutes later, and Steve glances around, looking for the subject of interest, discovering that Darcy is sneaking some of the pasta on to her plate when she thinks nobody's looking.

**

They work on Peter's team-up abilities. He hasn't fought alongside Natasha yet, so they pair them up, and Bucky calls Steve down to join his 'side'. Tony hums to himself incriminatingly right before some rap music comes up on the speakers which declares that Brooklyn 'goes hard'. Steve elects to ignore it.

"First round, you work with Natasha to take both of us down." Bucky pushes his hair away from his face and picks up a paintball gun rigged to look like a semiautomatic. He passes another to Nat. "In half an hour, we break for five, and then you defend her."

"Defend her?"

Bucky smirks at Nat. "She'll be your rescued hostage. Total civilian, completely helpless."

Natasha quirks a brow at Bucky, thankfully amused, before holding the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint. Peter makes a weird squeaking sound and catches her by the shoulders.

**

"Put me with him next time," Sam says, as they're filing out. Clint has produced, from seemingly nowhere, a small towel for Natasha to wrap around her shoulders, and she looks quietly smug that she got through the exercise untouched. (The same can't be said for Peter, but he's seen worse.)

"For the team-up?" Bucky asks, dropping the 'guns' back on their table.

"Yeah." Sam shrugs. "Why not."

Bucky grins and nods. Ten minutes later, when Steve is nuzzling Bucky's neck in the shower, Bucky hums and says he thinks they'd work well together.

"Nat or Clint, they wouldn't be able to keep up with someone Tarzanning around." Bucky has picked up on the any-noun-as-a-verb quirk of the 21st century and found he enjoys it. "Sam and Peter, though. That'd work."

"Quit talking shop and kiss me."

"Okay."

**

Later, when they're curled up together, Bucky untucks his head from the spot between Steve's shoulder blades and asks, "When're you gonna let me try something from that box?"

Steve reaches blindly for the sheets and tugs them up to his shoulder. "Sometime when I'm not so sleepy. Come back."

"Okay."

**

The next morning Bucky's already woken, dressed, and left - for some reason Steve's sketchbook is open on the desk to one of the more recent pages. When Steve dresses and goes to breakfast, Darcy is deeply involved with a stack of waffles and says that Bucky already ate and went down to the labs.

"Did he say what for?" Steve asks, curious.

"Something with Tony about his arm." Darcy shrugs and pulls the violet-colored syrup closer, pouring more onto her plate. It smells overwhelmingly of fake blueberries. Steve blinks and reaches for an apple.

"Thanks, I think I'll find them. Did anyone ever figure out what the Pym thing was, by the way?"

Steve would swear Darcy's ears go a little pink. "Not important," she mumbles, and stabs half the stack of waffles with her fork.

**

Steve follows Jarvis's directions down to the right lab, and to his surprise, Bucky is sitting on the end of the operating table holding still for... something Dum-E is holding.

"Hi Cap," Tony singsongs. "Come to see your art get immortalized?"

Steve walks in, making a beeline for the spot right behind Dum-E so he can see what's going on. Dum-E is holding some sort of spray bottle with multiple containers of differently colored fluid, but the spray end has been replaced with something like a needle. "Bucky, are you... getting a  _tattoo_?"

"He's a smart one, your boyfriend." Tony dodges Bucky's right-handed swat and joins Steve on the other side of the table, admiring the scene. "The outline's done. Really, the tattooing process is going to take half the time it took to rig something that would ink the synth-skin correctly without bleeding or washing out."

Steve squints to try to see the shape of it around the bottle and the strange little tubes feeding the needle, and then it dawns on him. "The SSR wing?" Bucky asked him to draw it a couple days ago, but Steve assumed it was just out of idle curiosity or something.

"Mmhmm." Bucky turns his head while making sure to keep the rest of his body still. "Like I used to have on my jacket."

"They still do embroidery in the future, you know. We could've just. Put a wing on your jacket."

"I like this better." Bucky smiles. When Dum-E scoots away to refill the white container in its little bottle, Bucky tugs his shoulder in, getting a look at the progress. "Kinda always wanted one of these."

Tony is getting a terrible sort of amusement from the surprise on Steve's face. "We should pierce your septum next, Barnes."

"Nah, nah, too boring. What's this Prince Albert thing I heard about on the internet?"

"I'm going to have to reevaluate our relationship."

**


	5. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

They're a little drunk. They make it nearly to the bed, opting instead for the corner, where things start to spin a little.

"No, it's not..." Steve giggles and tips his head back, letting it fall against the wall. "I'm  _not_ ," he protests. Bucky is laughing.

"Really? Because it sounds like you are. Completely."

"I'm  _not jealous_ ," Steve insists, and his voice cracks on the second syllable in a way that makes him blush. Bucky laughs louder. "I'm just... I'm curious. As to what... what you like."

"What I've liked with  _other people."_

"I guess."

"In bed," Bucky purrs, and Steve bites his lower lip and looks away in response. "Okay, okay. Okay. Remember Beth?"

" _Don't tell me!_ " Steve flails and kicks a leg out, connecting with Bucky's hip.

"You  _just said_ -"

" _No_ , don't tell me who it was. I shouldn't. I shouldn't know who did what." Steve takes another sip from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "S'... not my business."

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. "Okay, fine." He reaches outwards and Steve hands the bottle over. " _Some_ one," he says exaggeratedly, "used to..." All the easy bravado evaporates for a minute as Bucky gets lost in the memory, grinning a little. "She used to push me against the wall, not let me touch her. She'd kiss all the way down me, and unbutton my clothes, and then suck me." Bucky's cheeks go a little more flushed, and he tips the bottle back and takes a sip. He doesn't hide his grimace at the taste.

"And you liked that?" Steve looks at Bucky's expression. "Not being allowed to touch her."

"I guess," Bucky says, shrugging his shoulders limply. "She was, um. She was a smart girl." He grins. "Had everything under control."

Steve reaches out, and when Bucky hands the bottle back over, their fingers brush. "What else?"

Bucky licks his lips, considering. "There was a girl," he says slowly, beginning to smile, "who'd... what're you doing?"

"Nothing," Steve says, continuing to scoot forward. He nudges gently on Bucky's shoulder, tipsy but making sure not to shove. Bucky goes along with it and lays on his back, setting the bottle to one side. "Tell the story. Tell the thing."

"Okay. Okay." Bucky squirms a little, getting comfortable, visibly confused when Steve doesn't lay down next to him and join him. "There was a girl who'd, um."

"Now you're shy?"

"Suddenly telling all these things to  _you_  is - okay, when she played with me, she'd lick my balls. Really slow, like she would my cock. It was..." Bucky shifts a little as if remembering a little too well, and Steve enjoys the way his eyes widen as he feels Steve's thumbs hooking into his sweatpants, tugging them down. "What're you...?"

"Nothing," Steve insists again, grinning. "I'm just listening. To your stories."

Steve does it slow, pulling with clumsy fingers, and something in him relaxes when Bucky lifts his hips up to assist in the endeavor. Once they're off, Steve spreads Bucky's legs a little, sitting between them and examining Bucky's quickly hardening erection.

"So she'd lick them," Steve says. "Really slowly."

"Yeah," Bucky breathes, and makes a small whining sound when Steve bends down to try it. It's easy enough, and the hand that's gently tugging Bucky's cock up to keep it out of the way feels it get stiffer as his tongue runs up and down, finally sucking one gently into his mouth. That wasn't ever mentioned, but Bucky seems to like it all the same, breath hitching and letting out a soft curse.

Steve sits up after a few moments. "What else would they do?"

"Oh, God." Bucky laughs breathlessly. "Steve."

"C'mon, Buck, get your head together." He smiles wickedly.

"Um. One girl would bite me a little."

" _Bite_  you?"

"Not too hard."

"Where?"

Bucky shifts, and when he doesn't answer Steve squeezes with his hand, just a little pressure on the base of Bucky's cock. He moans.

"You don't  _have_  to tell me, obviously."

"My hips. My hips and... and anywhere people couldn't see. My thighs. My sh-  _ahhh..._ "

Steve lets go of Bucky's hipbone, drawing back and finding that the gentle indentations are already gone. He moves a little lower, finding a softer place, sinking his teeth in gently and then licking it as if to apologize. Bucky's body is tense, coiled with lust, and when Steve moves his hand away from Bucky's cock, he squirms and huffs in complaint.

"No moving," Steve chides him. "The first girl wouldn't let you move."

"Are you going to be  _all_  the girls?" Bucky whines.

"Depends on what they did, I guess." Steve spreads Bucky's legs a little further, leaning down and running his tongue along the inside of Bucky's thigh. "What else did they do?"

"Christ, Stevie."

Steve hums and continues moving, tongue sliding past the thick curls and settling instead on Bucky's waist. Feeling empowered, he sinks his teeth in gently and sets to work on a love-bite. Steve enjoys the quiet litany of curses as Bucky jerks up, cock twitching, trying not to move.

"Mmm." Steve pulls away and smiles (maybe a little stupidly) at Bucky. "They had some good ideas."

"One of them'd put her finger in me while she sucked me," Bucky breathes, all at once, and something in Steve's expression makes Bucky's face go from tense and hopeful to... something else. "Another, she, she..."

"Do you want that?"

"What?"

Steve pants, trying to think straight in the fog of the alcohol. "My fingers. In." He tries to think of the next word but Bucky's clearly already with him.

"I'm, um." Bucky looks away, maybe redder than he was before. "M'having a hard time thinking of something I  _don't_  want to do with you, Stevie."

"You keep calling me that."

"I  _like_  calling you that."

Steve refrains from admitting he likes it too, instead bending down and leaving a trail of messy kisses up Bucky's leg. "I'm not sure exactly how to... do it right." He's become good enough at sensing Bucky's discomfort, even when Bucky tries to hide it, that he thinks he could notice it and stop if he needed to. It's how to make it  _feel good_  that he's really not sure about.

"Just," Bucky pants, and Steve realizes that the knowledge that he might actually get this is arousing Bucky very, very quickly. "Just finger me. Like a dame."

That doesn't help him, Steve thinks but doesn't say, but gets up anyway, knee-walking to the box haphazardly shoved in the corner of the room and starting to root through it. He hears Bucky's soft whine behind him, and when he looks over his shoulder he realizes Bucky hasn't moved, hasn't even sat up, because Steve told him he wasn't supposed to. A strange thrill runs through his spine and he hunts with renewed vigor, finally finding the red bottle.

"Fuck, Steve."

"That's the general idea, yes." Steve crawls back, much more sober now, arranging Bucky's legs until they're bent up and spread a little. Bucky looks so  _vulnerable_  like this, and Steve finds himself turned on by how much Bucky doesn't seem to care. There's almost no blue in his eyes for how much his pupils have dilated, and he's worrying his lower lip, staring at him like he wants to mentally will Steve to move faster. Steve's hands definitely do not shake as he pops the cap on the lubricant, ignoring the strong smell of cherries to rub some on his fingers until it doesn't feel so cold. "You  _have_  to tell me. If."

"Of course. C'mon." Bucky allows himself an impatient wiggle that makes his cock shift on his stomach, precome smearing across his abdomen. It's beautifully filthy and Steve huffs out a breath just watching it.

The first finger is tight, difficult, but Bucky won't stop making needy little whines and when Steve draws back a little to press back in, he feels Bucky's body clench around him and Steve instantly understands the appeal of this. He  _wants_  this, suddenly, wants to feel that grip on his cock, wants to feel Bucky under him while he presses himself deeper and deeper only to pull back and snap back in... Steve starts a slow, forcibly gentle rhythm inside of Bucky and tries to calm himself down. The lubricant is helpful, but he thinks maybe he should have used more, so he pulls out gently (Bucky whines his disapproval) and pours more on his finger, ignoring how they tremble, and gently nudging back in.

"Another," Bucky breathes, and Steve realizes faintly that he's forgotten the second half of what he was supposed to be doing. He can't tear his eyes away from Bucky's face, though, the quick little twitches of his mouth and brows as Steve pushes in deeper and curls his finger a little to explore. Steve pulls out almost all the way and introduces a second finger, just edging the tip in before he sees the flicker of pain in Bucky's expression.

"We don't have to," Steve murmurs, as if this had been his idea to begin with, and Bucky growls and sits up just enough to grab Steve's wrist and guide his hand forward, both fingers sliding in, and Steve's open-mouthed expression of surprise is a nice mirror to Bucky's gasp for air.

"Want it," Bucky says thickly, and balances on his left hand, a little unsteady, and tightens his grip on Steve's hand to lead him into a slow, hard rhythm pumping in and out. After the first five or six, the pain around his eyes has faded and all that's left is the flushed mouth, the heavy breathing, everything that tells Steve that Bucky is okay. When Bucky finally releases him and falls back down to lay back on the carpet, Steve keeps up the rhythm given to him, watching as Bucky plants his heels firmly against the floor and begins to rock back against him. Steve uses his free hand to press tightly against his own erection, willing it to calm down and let him finish this. Bucky looks like he might even come just like this, just from being touched like this, and the idea of that happening is suddenly very, very important to Steve.

"Is it good?" Steve asks, and Bucky arches a little and lets his mouth hang open. Somewhat on instinct, Steve starts pumping faster, a little bit harder, and Bucky makes an encouraging moan as his hands scrabble at the floor in a vain attempt to find some purchase. "It looks -" Steve collects himself, daring, and scoots a little closer. "It looks like you  _really_ like it," he whispers, and Bucky opens his eyes to stare at him. "It looks like you're close."

Steve wasn't sure if he'd sound hot or stupid, but Bucky's expression tells him exactly what he thinks of it, and he starts to move a little harder against him to meet the thrusts. Steve scrounges up every bit of memory he has on the subject of talking like this, of trying to make it sound good, sound  _right._ "Tell me," Steve says, and Bucky moans again.

"I'm close," he admits, and his body starts to flush over, face to throat to chest, spreading over his right shoulder while his left remains pale. "Lemme move, Stevie. God, tell me I can move."

"Yeah." Steve pumps faster. Bucky's tongue swipes over his lips and he reaches down, grabbing himself and getting himself off in three quick strokes in time with Steve's movements. He cries out when he comes, which is a little new, and when he collapses back in a trembling mess Steve slows his fingers and pulls out gently. Bucky sighs, eyes shut, and reaches blindly for Steve. He's not sure if he's supposed to wash up first, but the reaching hand is pretty insistent - he lies down next to Bucky and lets himself be aggressively curled upon, one leg thrown over his hip and Bucky's face pressed tight against his neck and collarbone.

"M'g'nna get you off in a second," Bucky murmurs. "Just. Need a minute."

Steve nuzzles the top of his head and kisses it. "No rush."

"Sap."

Steve retaliates by pressing a kiss to the crown of Bucky's head. Bucky squirms away from it, laughing, pulling away to finally yank his t-shirt off and wrestle Steve's away as well. The pants take a little longer, because at this point Steve is so hard he can barely breathe with it, and Bucky seems happy to drink up every little hiss and gasp as he drags the clothes off of him and watches Steve's erection spring free.

"Can I suck you?" Bucky asks earnestly, and Steve's mind flashes back to a sheet of paper, with lots of scribbles and the word 'consent' circled repeatedly.

"Please," Steve begs, and groans embarrassingly loudly as Bucky dives down to wrap his lips around the head of his cock. His mouth is hot and so, so wet, and when Steve looks down to see Bucky's hollowed cheeks and stretched lips he's done for, hips rising off the floor as he empties himself into Bucky's mouth.

**

Later, after several glasses of water and a shower, Bucky nudges him onto the bed and arranges him with one arm stretched across the other pillow. He pulls on some pajamas and curls up in the space he made, head pillowed on Steve's bicep and hair falling into his eyes. Steve spends a little while watching him fall asleep, thinking, but the quiet sound of even breathing takes him under before long.


	6. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

"I wanna go out," Bucky murmurs against Steve's shoulder. Steve wakes up, stretches, and rolls over, looking at Bucky's sleep-mussed hair and pajama pants.

"You look ready for a night on the town," Steve says, and Bucky kicks him under the blanket. Steve winces a little and fights back, reaching down to find the ticklish spot on the side of Bucky's abdomen. Bucky shouts.

"Quit it! I mean it."

"You mean quit it or you mean you wanna go out?" Steve stills his hand on Bucky's stomach but Bucky doesn't untense, one hand still wrapped around Steve's wrist in wariness.

Bucky thinks about it. "Both."

"Okay." Steve feels sleep-warm and like he wants to hold Bucky here for the rest of his life, but this day's been a long time coming and he can't say no. Bucky's first completely independent request to go out. He's got this. "Anywhere in particular?"

"No," Bucky doesn't say so much as admit, and sits up, wriggling out of his shirt, his pajama pants (God), and beginning to hunt down some clothes. Steve watches from the bed and tries to think of something useful.

"We could go jogging."

"I wanna  _go_  somewhere, not run past it."

"Food?"

Bucky tries on an expression to mask the fact that the answer to food is always,  _always_  'yes'. "Maybe," he says evasively, and pulls on boxers, a t-shirt, his favorite hoodie. The sleeves are particularly long, and in recent days Steve has discovered that the fabric is especially soft to the touch.

"We could get food to go, and bring it to the park."

Bucky starts rooting around for a pair of jeans. "Now it's sounding like a date with a dame."

Steve shrugs magnanimously. "You don't have to get all dolled up unless you feel like it. It's nice weather for a sun dress, though." The jeans thrown in his face aren't unexpected. It's worth it for Bucky's peal of laughter.

**

It rains. They eat their calzones in the pizzeria, at the small table by the door with their legs bumping each other in the comfortable silence.

**

"Company picnics are cliché."

"Morale, Tony."

"Fine. Fine. I do maybe overwork my minions." Stark sighs and leans over, trying to decipher what Pepper's nonstop typing about. "Let's do it on that big rooftop restaurant uptown. We'll have cookout fare. Compromise."

"I'll have Happy run a security check on the building. Maybe we can hold it in September."

"Ooh! We'll bring the gang."

Pepper rolls her eyes. " _Tony_."

Clint is making the expression of mild interest that comes up whenever free food is involved. Natasha gets up, joining Bucky on the couch and tucking her legs up next to him.

"You said it's for morale! Half the security of the Tower is dedicated to making sure interns don't sneak up here to try to get an autograph from Black Widow or Thor, how great would it be if we had a thirty minute schmooze session. Morale  _and good PR_. People bring their  _families_  to these functions, Pepper, Cap could kiss some babies." Tony looks proud of himself. Steve rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't ask me to kiss babies, Tony."

"You're, like, a  _professional_  baby-kisser."

Bucky snorts and says something in Russian to Nat that makes her smile.

"Involving the team invites more security issues, not fewer." Pepper gives Tony the look that means she's not sorry for being the fun-sucker in this situation.

"But we've gone public now. The only time we get to get near the press is when we're standing in front of rubble people want to say is our fault."

"It's okay, Pepper."

Everyone looks over at Bucky, who's looking at a random spot on the floor. He shrugs a little, and that's when it hits Steve: yes, the Avengers are public, but  _Bucky's_  still a secret.

"Bucky," he says quietly, but Bucky just shrugs again and shifts a little closer to Natasha.

"I'm alright with hanging back for things. I'm not exactly popular right now...  or I wouldn't be, if people knew I was alive and who I was." He laughs a little. Steve doesn't miss the way Natasha leans into him a bit, comforting.

"For the record," Tony says, and then stops, looking at Pepper questioningly, and she sighs and relents with a gentle shrug. "For the record, um, we've been, I mean, okay, not we. My PR team has been keeping an eye on the SHIELD investigations and the Hydra stuff and, um, basically Congress is a mess right now with so many of  _them_  arrested or being investigated themselves. A lot of them are looking for scapegoats to push blame away from Pierce's old friends, too. We'd've come to you with some options for your big reveal, buuuut."

"But it's terrible timing," Bucky finishes, and Tony nods and takes a sip of his protein shake. Bucky nods, surprisingly unbothered, and goes back to watching television.

**

Tony and Pepper leave for some business in Japan. Steve's pretty sure Pepper talks to Bucky at some point before they leave, but Bucky doesn't mention it and Steve doesn't know how to bring it up.

**

"Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, I am afraid your attention is required downstairs."

Sam looks up at the ceiling, mildly affronted. "No Wilson?"

"The particular task at hand is better suited to Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes," Jarvis says apologetically.

Sam shrugs. "If you guys want to go make out somewhere, you don't need to get the e-Butler to make up an excuse for you."

"Oh my God,  _Sam_." Steve cringes as he gets up, ignoring Bucky's laughter as the two of them head to the elevator.

"Details?" Bucky asks, once the doors are shut.

"There is an impromptu schedule change in the Pym Project, and Mr. Stark is out of the country. I have attempted to contact Ms. Lewis, but she is delayed in the subway at the moment."

"Darcy knows about the Pym Project?" Steve looks at Bucky, then at the unfamiliar lab floor the doors open to.

"As of very recently and to the distress of Mr. Stark and Mr. Banner, yes, she does. If you will go left, sirs."

"Banner! Why can't Banner work on it?" Steve wonders why two super soldiers were next on the list after the in-the-knows, but one question at a time.

"I'm afraid Dr. Banner  _is_  the project, sir. This door here."

The keycoded door leads to a hallway leads to another keycoded door with a viewing glass. Peering in, Steve can see it opens into a large, soft-cornered room that looks like it wouldn't be out of place in a Teletubbies episode. The walls are a soft lavender, kind of spongy looking, and there is one enormous violet beanbag in the middle of the room with two regular-sized bean bag chairs stuffed in the corner. Seated in the biggest chair is the Hulk, who is calmly watching a cartoon program Steve doesn't recognize.

"Oh my  _God_ ," Bucky whispers. "He's ... he's  _huge_."

Steve frowns. "Haven't you seen video footage?"

"He's  _so green_ ," Bucky adds.

"I guess it is a little different in person." Steve looks up. "Jarvis, what's our mis- what are we supposed to do here?"

"You can say 'mission'," Bucky grumbles.

"Dr. Banner is attempting to establish a better rapport with his secondary personality through internal discussions and intentional, scheduled transformations. When unscheduled transformations occur, this room serves as a safe location which has been previously established as a soothing and enjoyable environment."

"So this is Hulk's 'happy place'," Bucky translates.

"Yes, sir."

"This is bizarre," Steve murmurs.

"This is  _cool_." Bucky looks up at the ceiling. "So we're supposed to hang out with him?"

"If you would be so kind, sir."

"Alright. Steve, I doubt this is gonna be too different from you taking care of me when I was drunk." Bucky gestures to the keypad, and walks through the door when Jarvis opens it.

**

When Darcy finally makes it, she's sweated through most of her clothes, hair a mess and carrying an alarming number of bags of snacks from the pantry. Her panicked look melts away when the door swishes open and she sees Steve and Bucky sitting on either side of the Hulk, watching him watch a documentary on the British countryside. Steve gives her a little wave.

"When'd you guys...?" She trails off, dropping the bags in the corner of the room. The sudden plastic rustling draws the Hulk's attention away from the screen. His eyes brighten.

" **Funny lady?** "

"Yeah, buddy." She grins.

" **Funny lady bring spicy Cheetos?** "

"Duh."

**

The Hulk drifts off to the soothing tones of David Attenborough. He leans back, then further, head finally smacking dully against the wall, and he slides down bonelessly.

"Out like a light," Darcy chirps, and leans over to give his giant arm a little pat.

"Heavy sleeper?" Steve asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the jungle birds on the screen. Darcy nods and gets to her feet. She starts gathering up the empty chip bags.

"Tony stacked weights on his belly once. He said it was a scientific test, but I think it was so he could show Bruce the picture later."

Bucky frowns around a mouthful of Doritos. "What if he shifted back with the weights still on top?"

Darcy gestures widely, bags crinkling. "That's what  _I_  said! ... apparently Hulk shifts back really slowly in his sleep, so Tony 'had it under control', but I still think it was dumb. Like, prove your point with a washable Sharpie. Draw some theorems on his face. Jeez. Much safer."

Steve gets to his feet and starts helping Darcy collect the trash. "So how'd you come to learn about this? Jarvis implied it wasn't on purpose."

Darcy shrugs. "Bucky asked us about the project, and I knew Pym was  _totes_  fired, so I started poking around... this is his old office, actually. The walls were already treated to handle and absorb intense and sudden increases in mass, so it's relatively punch-resistant."

"What was Pym working on?" Bucky scoots back, examining the Hulk's peaceful (slightly drooly) face.

"Making stuff get bigger and smaller, basically, but he sucked at it and stuff kept disappearing or breaking the ceiling." Darcy rolls her eyes. "Bruce gets bigger and smaller, and Tony likes dumb jokes, so. Pym Project." She knocks on a corner of the room as if summoning an invisible door. A small hatch slides open obligingly, and she pushes the trash into it. The panel slides closed. "Bruce comes here like twice a month, but today wasn't supposed to... something must've gotten to him."

Steve studies her face, but says nothing. Bucky gestures 'down' at the television screen until the volume goes down a couple notches.

"Why's it such a secret?" Bucky asks. "We all know who he is."

Darcy screws her face up a little. "I think he thinks people'd be nervous if they knew he wasn't 'Bruce' all the time." She sounds like she doesn't agree.

**

The box arrives with several Amazon deliveries, but it sticks out, heavy and the address written in what can only be described as immaculate handwriting. Steve frowns at the return address - Wakandan embassy. Bucky is going to be training Pepper for another forty minutes at least, so Steve and brings it to the bedroom, pulling out some scissors and beginning to unwrap it. The box is large, but light. Nothing rattles.

It's well-packed and then in a plastic bag besides, but he recognizes it the moment he glimpses the upper right corner, the way the cover is curled inward and a little darker than the rest. He picks up the note.

_Captain Rogers,_

_Please forgive me. I have been told I am a particularly stubborn person. I believe this belongs to you._

_With Great Respect,_

_-T'Challa_

Steve sets the note aside, lifts the sketchbook out of the packing paper and removes it from the airtight plastic bag. The smell is subtle but overpowering to him - crisp, old paper, the best he could afford back then, and slightly musty. When he opens it the spine protests just the slightest amount, and the gentle, tiny scrape marks and very faint chemical smells make Steve wonder if the book had to be treated at some point for mold. Probably. Seventy years is a long time.

Steve is still leafing through it when Bucky comes in. Bucky says something Steve doesn't hear, and then he puts his gym bag down and comes over, looking over Steve's shoulder as he pages through the grocery store, the pond, the schoolyard. Somewhere toward the end is the full-page sketch of a dark haired boy standing on a rock, looking over the water.


	7. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> ((BRAND NEW NOTE:
> 
> Sincere thank yous to everyone who's sent me encouragements and condolences since the story accidentally came down. It's meant a lot to me.
> 
> A specific thank you, with a slight note of overwhelmed appreciation, to freshbakedlady, [who recently did a podfic of Circling Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2540606). I've been listening to it (is that vain? If it is I don't care) as I fix formatting issues and put this back up, and I'm realizing that the amount of work that must have been put into that is staggering. When she asked me for permission to do the project I don't think it dawned on me just how long that story is and how much time that would mean recording... and the product is really great. Please go check it out and admire/enjoy her work.))

Steve arranges another 'date' out. He checks the weekly weather forecast on three different websites this time, waiting for a day Bucky doesn't have a teleconference.

(Bucky still comes back quiet from those, and it's occurred to Steve recently that for all the leaps and bounds Bucky's made, talking about their time as kids, the war, what he needs, sometimes even how he feels, he doesn't talk about the teleconferences. Or how he feels about them. Or anything between the fall and when he broke into Steve's apartment. Steve tries not to worry about this.)

The guy at the shwarma place clearly recognizes him, even though Steve's not in uniform or covered in dirt. The man says nothing, probably remembering the enormous wad of cash Tony had left in his tip jar that night, and bags their food for them.

There are kids everywhere, all wearing matching neon green t-shirts in what Steve recognizes as some sort of school field trip event.

"It's so they're harder to lose," Steve explains, arranging the food and bottles of water on the picnic table. He knocks elbows with Bucky as he sits down. "They must be, what, fourth grade?"

"They're  _tiny_." Bucky starts unwrapping his food, overwhelmed by the noise but more at ease the more he watches the kids run around. Someone's dog shows up halfway through the meal, nosing Steve's leg and trying to hop onto the bench seat to inspect what smells so good, and Bucky laughs and distracts it with some head scratches. He's getting there, Steve realizes, his heart feeling too big for his chest. He's definitely getting there.

**

They go to an Indian restaurant the next night. Steve couldn't be happier.

**

Another family dinner. Darcy makes cupcakes that have rainbow sprinkles in the batter and icing. She's in the middle of apologizing that they're 'out of a box' when two tiny webs appear on either side of a cupcake, tugging it by the paper wrapper out of the container and toward Peter. Darcy scowls at him. "We haven't even started eating!"

" _I_  have started eating," Peter says solemnly, and makes a show of biting the top off of the cupcake.

Natasha and Clint provide craft beers from some brewery Steve has never heard of. Jane, with no Thor to cook for this month, has made a pasta salad. Sam grills hot dogs and burgers out on the patio, and before long they just pick up their plates and eat out by the pool. The weather's still warm enough for it, and when Bucky finishes devouring everything in sight he tucks in close, laying his head on Steve's thigh and ignoring the 'aww' from Darcy on his left.

"Are there any cupcakes left?"

Steve looks. "Yes."

"Can you reach one without getting up?"

"No."

"Then never mind." Bucky squirms until comfortable, then tugs Steve's hand to rest on his side. Steve happily resigns himself to being stuck there for the next ten minutes or so.

**

Bucky's late for Peter's training one day, and there's a bruise shaped like a gripping hand on his shoulder that his t-shirt doesn't quite cover. Steve, who made sure to come in five minutes earlier in a failed attempt to hide the fact that he was the  _reason_  Bucky was late, pretends to suddenly get very interested with his phone while Peter complains about 'time management' and 'neurochem projects due next week'.

"Peter, quit sassing the man." Sam grins. "Those two're working hard to give you that little brother or sister you always wanted, and here you are, complaining."

Clint laughs so hard he actually falls out of his chair.

**

Steve asks Bucky to keep a copy of Pepper's training schedule in his/their room. (Sometimes Steve ends up calling it 'the room' for fear of giving it the wrong ownership. Saying it's theirs might be presumptuous. Saying it's his might be exclusionary.) He uses it to determine when it's safe to do research without fear of being caught.

Natasha's gift box was, he has to admit, thoughtfully done. The lack of handcuffs, rope, or any restraints - or indeed, any of those small floggers or paddles Steve's seen in the window displays of the shops downtown, was almost definitely a conscious choice. The books are informative without being lewd, providing suggestions and tips, and one Thursday afternoon he finally tries it, grabbing the bottle of lube and contorting himself on the bed so he can get the best angle. It's completely uncomfortable at first, just a strange stretching feeling, but Bucky seems to like it and he's anxious to find new ways to pleasure him without hurting him, so Steve keeps going, rocking back into his hand by the end of it and half-hard against the sheets. He rinses off in the shower, committing to memory what felt best, how slow he had to go to keep it from hurting at first. He thinks about maybe trying one of the toys next time, something to reach further and get the spots he could only brush against, and he feels himself hardening again. It's going to be one of  _those_  showers.

**

" _Fuck_ , baby." Bucky gasps and presses open-mouthed kisses against Steve's shoulder, panting. "Yeah, just like - oh, fuck-"

**

Bucky sleeps curled around him.

**

Thor's back. Jane enlists the help of the Tower's industrial kitchen downstairs, and possibly a few of the cooks, to help her roast a pig. Thor is pacing the common room like a man waiting to see his bride, talking animatedly to Sam about the taste of well-cooked boar and how the spices must be  _just_  right, and he hopes Jane prepares it correctly, because if she doesn't she will see it on his face no matter how he tries to hide it and then  _she will be very sad_ , and that outcome, if Thor's tone is any indication, would be too horrible to imagine.

Bucky, for his part, helps keep the gravy from burning while Sam puts the biscuits in the oven. Bucky stirs, then hums, twisting around on the kitchen counter he probably shouldn't be sitting on to begin with to inspect the bowl Bruce is stirring.

"What's that?"

"It's going to be gulab jamun," Bruce says brightly. "Steve mentioned you really enjoyed Indian food last week, and I got inspired to try a dessert for once."

"Gulab jamun... I don't think we had that." Bucky's brows come together and he looks to Steve for reassurance, even though this isn't an old memory. Steve snaps his fingers.

"Yes, but I've had this. Remember the people at the next table, they had-"

"The donut holes!" Bucky nearly shouts, and looks back to the mixing bowl with renewed appreciation. "You can make those? The rose things?"

"Rose things?" Peter pokes his head in. Sam makes an irritated noise.

"ALL FOOD THIEVES ARE BANISHED FROM THE KITCHEN. Bucky, that includes you." Sam points two fingers at his eyes, then at Bucky. "Don't think I haven't seen you tasting the gravy. I don't care if you used a clean spoon, man, I'm putting my foot down. Out. Out."

**

About twenty minutes later, Clint gets a text and heads downstairs with Tony 'to help carry'. Jane comes back first, beaming, flipping a rug out of the way so the two men can push a serving cart with a whole roast pig to the middle of the room. It smells like honeyed bacon and something else Steve can't quite define, something meaty and salty and mouthwatering.

Thor is nearly weeping with happiness.

**

Bucky's new 'project' is to go out with someone in the Tower he hasn't been with before, so he asks Pepper if she'd like to go jogging with him sometime instead of the usual workout. She says yes, but only if they can go shopping after.

"I have a list," Pepper confides with Steve, "of places he would like. They're not too far a walk from the Tower, and I'll make sure he doesn't get overwhelmed."

"He doesn't have  _money_ ," Steve reminds her, and reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet. She swats his hand.

"You know how I still manage the accounts for the Avengers and all the payrolls?"

"Yes," Steve says, and has a feeling of where this is going.

From the small pocket of her running shorts, she produces a black plastic rectangle. "My finger slipped again."

**

Bucky comes back after lunch, loaded down with shopping bags. Steve's getting flashbacks to the shoe excursion with Natasha.

"Most of this is Pepper's," he mutters preemptively, spotting Sam's amused grin. He sets it all down very gently on the coffee table, arms finally free to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead. Steve notices the intentionally deep breaths, the way he's consciously working to keep himself steady, but he  _is_  steady, and Steve feels... proud of him.

"I'm getting us two glasses of water, and then I'm texting Natasha so she can come see the earrings." Pepper is in a particularly good mood.

"Ah, of course." Sam nods knowingly to Steve. "Can't let Natasha miss out on the earrings."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Wilson."

"No, ma'am. I'm more a necklace kinda guy."

Bucky is quietly separating two bags from the pile, sliding them under the coffee table, hiding them from inspection. Steve suppresses his curiosity for now and watches as Pepper shows Natasha the emerald and gold studs she got at the antique store, modeling them. Bucky pointedly does  _not_  model the workout clothes he bought for himself, but he does seem happy to show off the small, mid-century painting of a French villa. It's a tiny thing, not more than eighteen by ten inches, with small, precise brushwork and little dappled leaves.

"Same antique store as the earrings."

"It's sweet," Natasha says, and Steve leans in closer.

"It looks like the house of those farmers that put us up," he says, realizing all of a sudden. Bucky smiles widely.

"That's what I thought!" He lays it carefully on the coffee table. "Above the desk, maybe?"

Steve realizes that Bucky's painting is going in his room. Their room. "The - the light will be really good there," he agrees, and is pretty sure Sam notices the little waver in his voice. Sam's a good guy. He doesn't say anything.

**

When he gets to his - their - room, there is a massive array of art supplies spread out over the neatly-made bed. Pencils, paper of different thicknesses, a set of charcoals. Bucky's smiling like it's Christmas.

"Bucky?"

"I've always wanted to get you this stuff, and I could never afford more than one or two at a time." He smiles down at it all. "I think I got most of it right."

Steve picks up one of the erasers, turning it over and over in his fingers. "What'd I do to deserve you?" he asks quietly.

"Something awful, I guess." Bucky grins smugly and stretches, moving the stuff over just enough to get some cuddles.

**

Movie night. Bucky clearly thinks he's funny, on popcorn duty but also making sure to put together a large bowl of spicy Cheetos.

"Funny thing is, I um, I'm actually not a fan." Bruce smiles apologetically and Bucky makes a surprised sound, handing them over to Clint instead. Darcy, Steve notices, has coincidentally found the spot on the couch to Bruce's left.

"Your loss," Clint says, mouth already full.

**

Rhodey visits on his way to the midwest. Thousands of White House emails are suddenly missing. There are still interns and staffers being investigated, rooted out, and the ad-hoc elections are getting ugly. Sixteen arrests were made in Florida last week during a rally against half the people on the ballot. Nevada's heating up. When Bucky finally comes to bed, he says Rhodey and Tony are still talking, still planning what resources they can put where, if there's any hope for getting California to calm down before the shit hits the fan and the protests turn to riots. Nobody trusts government right now. Nobody trusts anybody.

Steve doesn't know who Natasha's doing it for, if anyone, but he walks in one day to find Bucky with a stack of folders. He's writing in margins, scribbling notes next to pictures of men Steve doesn't recognize. Bucky recognizes some of them. He doesn't say as much, and his scribbles aren't in English, but his eyes are cold and determined and pushing through the discomfort page after page after page.


	8. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Bucky comes back from his teleconference, immediately reaching for the throw blanket and cocooning himself in it. Steve gives him a few minutes of sitting at the desk reading his tablet before patting the spot on the bed next to him. It takes a while, but the cocoon finally comes over and lays down next to him.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" Steve knows the answer, wishes it were different, but never knows how to get past the next word:

"No."

So Steve strokes Bucky's head instead, through the layers of fabric, and eventually sets his book down to curl around him.

**

"I wish you'd tell me what's on your mind."

Bucky shifts in Steve's arms, not answering, the rasp of his stubble faint on Steve's skin. Steve gives it a minute.

"You don't have to-"

Bucky gets up, walks to the bathroom, and quietly shuts the door behind him.

**

_Sam Wilson: 5 guys????_

_Steve Rogers: Sure._

_Sam Wilson: bucky-bae?_

_Steve Rogers: What?_

_Sam Wilson: buckinator 3000?_

_Steve Rogers: I'll ask him if he wants to come along. (Just 'Bucky' is probably good.)_

_Sam Wilson: y do u hate fun :(_

**

Clint gets roped in too, and he gets Bucky talking by asking him something long and complicated in what Steve is pretty sure is Polish. When he's sure Bucky's chatting away and no longer bottled up or tense, Steve finally starts listening to what Sam is saying:

"...so then I flew around the moon and back, and fought some robots, and made out with Madonna for a while, and then Beyonce got  _really jealous_ , and-"

Steve winces. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Only the last half block or so." Steve makes an apologetic face and Sam grins. "Doing okay?"

 _My boyfriend has super-hearing so I can't answer that_ , he wants to say telepathically, and instead goes for, "Yeah. When's your family thing?"

"That's next week. I'm really excited." He grins. "A lot of 'em moved away from Harlem back when I was a kid... don't see them too often."

"Enjoy the normalcy while you've still got it," Steve says earnestly. "It's worth its weight in gold in our profession."

"Don't I know it." Sam rolls his eyes. "The grown-ups have promised not to try to talk to me about 'work', but there's no telling with the under-12s. Last I saw Kenny he was a  _massive_  Captain America fan, and that was before you even thawed out."

"Don't be upset just because your family likes me more," Steve chides, earning a laugh.

**

Bucky naps by the pool, sunglasses slightly askew and Natasha curled up next to him in a ruby-colored bikini. Steve ruminates, finds himself unbothered by this, and catches up on the news in the common room until Natasha walks in. She's pushing her hair back and stretching. She must have just woken up.

"How're you doing?" she asks, walking to the fridge. He understands what it means.

"No complaints." She'll understand what he means. "How's he?"

Natasha tilts her head side to side, holding one glass to the ice maker, then the other. Steve considers this.

"Does he talk to you?"  _About... whatever it is_ , Steve thinks.  _Whatever it is that's eating at him_.

"I get my way," Natasha replies, and fills both glasses with water. She disappears out the french doors again, and a minute later, Steve's phone beeps.

_UNLISTED: It's easier for him to talk about it with someone else who's done it._

Killed, Steve thinks.

_Steve Rogers: I haven't?_

_UNLISTED: It's different. Don't take it personally._

_UNLISTED: He wants everything involving you to be the good things in his life. He wants to be the good things in your life._

Steve types out a few things and deletes them before sending. 'His past isn't a burden.' 'He doesn't have to censor himself to be with me.' 'I wish he didn't feel so responsible of things that aren't his fault.'

He puts the phone down.

**

"You're kinda gloomy, Greenie."

Bruce looks up from his grapefruit and makes a noncommittal sound. Tony leans forward, unimpressed and clearly not dropping the subject.

"When's the conference over?"

Clint tilts his head, putting his boots up on the table. "Conference?"

"There's an astrophysics conference going on until next week," Pepper says, gliding in. She gives Clint a glance that Steve doesn't quite catch, but suddenly Clint's feet are back on the floor. "I think it's in Houston."

"Ah. Jane and Darcy are gone." Clint nods slowly.

"Hmm." Tony plunks his chin in one open hand and examines Bruce openly, unbothered by the way the man seems to hunch further into his grapefruit. "Correlation or causation for the slumped shoulders and empty sighs?"

Bruce breathes deeply and spears another section of fruit, the gesture somewhat pointed, if Steve does say so himself. Sam starts rambling about Houston's music scene, because he's a good guy like that. It fills the empty space where Bruce's response would be.

**

"I don't think they're together yet," Sam says, once Tony's left and Bruce has gone to his labs.

"Nope," Clint grunts. He flicks a flake of cereal into the air to catch it with his mouth.

"Is it really our business?" Steve blinks as everyone turns to him, unimpressed.

"What do you think we talked about when you and Bucky were circling each other?" Clint asks.

"...more important things, I'd hope."

"Nope," Clint says again, and flicks another piece of cereal up.

**

Steve is sitting in bed reading when Bucky rolls over, pulling Steve's pajama pants down to nuzzle his crotch.

"Buck!"

"Mm." Bucky presses his nose into the curls, waiting for a 'yes', and when Steve shivers and sets his book down on the nightstand, that apparently counts as one. Bucky scoots forward and takes Steve in his mouth, suckling until Steve is fully hard. With careful fingers Bucky pulls back the foreskin enough to run his tongue along the slit, around the head, and Steve pants and collapses into the pillows.

"Oh my  _God_."

"Mmm," Bucky agrees, and licks wetly until Steve is soaked. He curls his fingers around the length, stroking slowly, until Steve is shuddering beneath him. He starts licking again.

" _Bucky_ ," Steve says warningly, because this is too good, and he's only human. Part of him wants to prop himself up and watch, but he'll only embarrass himself faster that way - he opts instead to lay flat, eyes shut, and let Bucky have his way with him. This may or may not be a clear signal that things are okay again, he thinks foggily. 

"Mmm," Bucky says again, and then dives down, trying not for the first time to take as much in as he possibly can. Steve feels himself hit the back of Bucky's throat and groans, thrusting shallowly before he can stop himself. Bucky doesn't gag this time, just draws back and goes down again, slowly, and Steve thinks he could die happily just like this. Bucky keeps going, hands pinning Steve gently down and then more firmly as Steve pants and finally comes in Bucky's mouth.

"What... was that for?" Steve asks. Bucky is licking his lips, tilting his head as if considering the taste, before rolling onto the floor and rustling through some things.

"So you wouldn't be wanting for anything while I did this." He climbs back up and strips, pulling Steve's shirt off too. Bucky straddles him and kisses him, hovering just a few inches above Steve's body and pressing the bottle of lubricant into his hand.

"You want me to, to," Steve pants against Bucky's pliant mouth and fumbles to open the cap.

"Your fingers, yeah." When Steve gets them coated enough Bucky grabs him by the wrist, pulling until the back of Steve's hand is flat against his abdomen. "Wanna ride you." He grins as Steve moans. "We'll do it for real, too," he whispers. "Later." He starts lowering himself down, gingerly at first and then with more insistence, mouth falling open and then curving into a smile.

"You're gorgeous," Steve says, because he can't help it. He can already feel his cock stirring again. The sight of Bucky on top of him like this is more than he needs to get hard again, if a little slower.

"Shuddup and... nnh." Bucky sits up a little straighter, lowering himself down the final inch and then coming back up, shaking, down again. Like before, the first three or four times are the most difficult, and then he starts up a rhythm, slick everywhere Steve can feel and breathing shallowly. Steve licks his lips and watches as Bucky loses himself in it, fucking himself down on Steve's fingers and starting to stroke his own cock in time with it, and he  _is_ gorgeous, especially like this, when he takes what he wants and is so overtaken by the pleasure of it. His left hand is digging red streaks into his thigh as he moves faster, and before long Steve feels himself hardening again. Bucky stops a moment, holding himself up on shaking legs and fumbling with the hand Steve has been working so hard to keep still.

"What d'you-" Steve's cut off as Bucky laughs at his own inept attempts to rearrange Steve's hand.

" _Three_ , I want - gimme three."

"Okay. Three." Steve complies and slides his other hand onto Bucky's leg, stroking it, soothing. Bucky's mouth tugs into a soft smile and he starts again, slower, taking his time with it and mouth opening sometimes when the angle is just right. Before long he can feel Steve's erection sliding against his ass when he fucks down, fully hard now and straining upwards. Bucky twists around to look at it and grins devilishly, laughing under his breath. He stops stroking himself to reach around his body, squeezing Steve's erection, stroking downwards in time with the motion of his hips.

**

"You..."

"Hmm?"

Steve presses his face into Bucky's shoulder. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Warm fingers stroke through Steve's hair. "Of course."


	9. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Winter Soldier content involving torture and death of innocent people and animals. Mid-century content involving homophobia and implications of sexual assault.

There are lots of things Bucky doesn't tell Steve.

**

Bucky was, he realized long after the fact, in intense pain for weeks after breaking into Steve's apartment.

He doesn't remember the names of the things they found in his blood, but the specialist explained that there had clearly been a lot of it there, at one point, and that it was like an alcoholic going through the shakes. His body was craving things, felt like it was drowning because he hadn't had to tread his own water in so long. He felt scared and sluggish in the same heartbeat, sometimes, felt like he couldn't concentrate on what Steve was doing. Steve would talk to him, repeat things, worry over the way Bucky's eyes were flying all over the room, would lock down on the floor, trying to find an anchor. His mind was working nonstop, but it was also screaming.

Bucky didn't have the vocabulary or the presence of mind to express how much his head hurt, but he knows Steve would blame himself if he knew, if he knew that the first couple weeks were hell. He wouldn't understand that even with that agony it was still so, so much better than what Bucky had before, and that to Bucky, that was all that mattered.

**

Bucky hadn't dumped Betty Sanderson because she was 'dull'. He dumped her because he nearly hit her in a dance hall.

He'd been sauced with her a few times before, knew she got a little mean when she had a few in her, but this time her focus was set on Steve, and it was unbearable.

"Any guy that obsessed with art is a fairy," she said, laughing. "You better keep one eye open, you two moving in together. He'll fiddle with you in your sleep if you give him half a chance."

He laughed on reflex, because there were too many jokes made on the docks for him to not have a knee-jerk reaction ingrained in him. As soon as he finished his drink, the rage in him barely tamped down, he set his eyes on a girl across the room and went right over to her, introducing himself and smiling lopsidedly, and danced with her the rest of the night. Betty never spoke to him again.

**

During Pepper's second training session, he stood behind her and held her wrists together, one-handed, talking about the different ways she would learn to get out of the position. It was the first real vice grip he'd put her in, allowing no movement, and after a while he realized she was crying.

He let go like he'd been shocked, and she wiped at her face, apologizing over and over. She babbled about how badly she wanted never to be taken again, ever again, and how getting held too tightly still set her off sometimes, reminded her of the machine that held her in place. She said she should have told him, but she thought she'd gotten past it.

It was easy, for some reason, to move closer and rub up and down her arms, cheek against hers, touching but not holding. She stood tense and ashamed for a long time before she wrapped her arms around his middle and clung, and he hugged her back, telling her that he'd make her strong, and that she was already, and that even if she wasn't, she's got a whole pack of people who would rip New York apart to bring her home safe.

He will never tell anyone. He made a promise.

**

Tony came to him a couple sessions later and stared at him, saying nothing for a long time. Finally telling Bucky that if he ever needed anything, for any reason, ever, to let him know.

Bucky figured Pepper must have told him, more or less.

(Bucky asked for fireproof practice dummies.)

**

Bucky had  _hated_  Steve's new body. He'd hated it first because of what it meant, because of what they took from him, because of what Steve had to do now. Because of what Bucky  _couldn't_  do for him anymore. But as days passed and the POW rescue fell further and further into the past, Bucky just plain hated Steve's new body.

It was too big for him, made him clumsy in a new way, set off alarm bells in the back of Bucky's mind like looking at one's own reflection in a fun house mirror.  _Not right_ , his brain insisted, cataloging every rib he could no longer see, every knobby joint that had filled out with muscle and fat that wasn't there before. Carter clearly adored it, and Bucky got from the stories that she might have looked at Steve like that before, but it was still all wrong. Steve looked  _wrong_. It was nearly halfway through his stint with the Commandos that he no longer had to remind himself to look for a different silhouette through the scope, to find a bigger, broader shape to watch and protect and kill for.

**

The night Bucky remembered killing Howard, Natasha told him everything. She told him every awful thing she'd done. She whispered each thing in his ear until he stopped shaking, until his breathing calmed, until he could press back into her as tightly as she was pressing into him. She didn't let go of him until he asked her to and that took hours.

**

Steve had come back to the apartment one day bloodied and bruised; Bucky helped him clean up, calm as anything. He got the ice and the kit and took Steve's shirt, scrubbed the blood out of the collar, and remained completely calm. There was a large dark crescent that spanned from Steve's temple to his forehead. The front of a boot. Bucky asked what happened, who it was. Steve made him promise he wouldn't do anything stupid, and Bucky promised, and Steve told him the story. Who it was. Bucky listened and nodded and hung the shirt up to dry. He held the ice pack when Steve's arm got tired.

Five nights later, outside of Thomas Skinner's favorite bar, Bucky waited. When Thomas staggered out and walked towards home, Bucky trailed him.

After two blocks nobody was around. Bucky pulled him into the alley and beat him half to death.

**

Bucky's psychiatrist suggested a therapy dog very early on, and Bucky had used what mental strength he had to say, "No."

He doesn't dislike dogs. He's liked them since he was a kid, the big lanky mutts that jump in your lap and knock you over because they're so excited to lick your face and love on you. Even the little barky ones, they were never so bad. But Bucky remembers guard dogs, big heavy dobermans and rottweilers. He remembers picking them off one by one, silencer keeping it quiet, so he could get to his target and finish his mission. He can't remember the targets but he remembers the dogs, because the dogs would always perk up at the quiet sound of the shot and then circle around the one that dropped, whining, snuffling, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. At the time, he didn't understand why they did that.

**

Bucky remembers Vietnam.

He remembers a little of the arson, and making sure the targets were dead, but he mostly remembers the walk back to the coordinates, the girl he found coughing and crying and bloodied from scrapes on her legs. She was trying to find help, but she'd gotten lost on the way to the next village. She would not stop crying.

The Soldier never got any instructions on this in his report, but he knew there was something he was supposed to do. The Soldier knew that there was a rule, a regulation, there was something about leaving children alone. It was incorrect protocol. He carried the girl to the coordinates and set her down. He told his handler in English that the mission was successful.

The handler was angry. He wanted to know who the girl was. The Soldier said he didn't know, and that she had been lost. The handler was angry but there was a rule. So he brought the girl. But the handler was so, so angry.

The handler pulled out his sidearm and shot the girl. She was dead. The handler pushed the Soldier into the car and they drove away.

He knew he had made a mistake, but nobody explained it to him, and they pushed him back into cryo as soon as he got back.

**

Bucky remembers watching the car to make sure the targets died. He remembers returning and getting claps on the back and cheers, which was unfamiliar. They were very happy. They were laughing at him. He didn't know why. They pulled out a bottle of something and poured it into many thin little glasses. They gave the Soldier a glass. He drank it because it was given to him. It tasted strange and familiar. He looked down the hall while they celebrated, toward the cryo room. He wanted to go back in. He hoped they would put him back in soon.

**

The Soldier didn't like cryo, but he wanted it after missions. Cryo hurt at first, hurt his skin and then his bones and then his head, it hurt his head for  _so long_ , but after that it felt like nothing. Nothing was good.

**

He remembers leading teams. He remembers it feeling wrong, like someone else was supposed to be doing it, but they told him to do it so he did. He led men and eliminated targets and then came back. He told the men how to do it better, how to kill better, how to keep from getting killed. Some of them fought badly. He fixed it. He was supposed to. Nobody told him to do it, but somehow he knew. He was supposed to.

**

He remembers strange music. Whenever he had a team, the team would play music while getting driven or flown to the mission. None of it was familiar. He ignored it.

**

Sometimes the men talked to him like they knew him. He didn't know them. They got confused, and then they were quiet and sad. He didn't understand.

**

One of the men got trapped in a firefight. He remembers running back and getting the man out, the blood on his shoulders and back as he carried him. He dropped the man into the truck and checked his vitals and yelled at him. This was not familiar. He was angry but he didn't know why. The man hadn't been careful. The man ran ahead and could have died. It made him angry and he yelled and told him to never do it again.

**

Someone gave him food once.


	10. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your life, but there might be some benefit in [opening up Circling Back in Entire Work view](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1467004?view_full_work=true) and reading this chapter alongside it. This covers the same ground as the first chapters but in very disjointed way.

Bucky's best guess, for the days that he watches Steve recover in the hospital and then try to track him down, is that Steve was his original handler. None of his memories are clear, but if he shuts his eyes and concentrates on Steve's voice and tries to empty his mind as much as he can, pictures come back. He sees Europe, and blood, and before that, he sees... cold rooms, and drawings, and a small boy. He remembers how important the boy was. How he would do anything for him.

Steve didn't treat him like they'd treated him. Steve never beat him or froze him or wiped him. When Bucky had killed for Steve, it wasn't like when they made him kill. He'd killed to protect Steve, he'd killed... guns, they'd always had guns, or other weapons. Bucky thinks hard and he can never remember killing someone who wasn't another solider, when he was with Steve, and that is very different. There is something important about it.

Steve cries sometimes. Bucky watches through the lens and sees Steve sitting at the table in his apartment. His shoulders shake up and down and his hands are on his face. Something about that is bad. Something about that means Bucky is failing. He's not just supposed to keep Steve alive. Bucky's duty is more complicated.

Bucky arranges the important parts in linear order. They were both young and he belonged to Steve. Then Bucky had to go far away, and he got taken by them. Steve took him back. Steve had gotten bigger, much bigger, and they were still far away from home but he still belonged to Steve. There was a fight and he fell. Then he's not sure. Then he was with them again. Then he belonged to them. His missions weren't the same anymore. He didn't get to ask or argue. He was a different thing. What he was now didn't get to ask or argue. He got hurt a lot and they were not concerned about it. That was different from before.

Bucky goes to a hideout he remembers a couple miles away and questions the people that are still there. They are scared. They are confused. He thinks maybe his questions aren't right. The woman is crying a lot and she doesn't know anything. She pulls a gun and tries to kill him so he shoots her. The men are also scared and pull out their weapons. He kills all but one and asks him more questions. He doesn't remember now what the questions were but the man doesn't know the answers. He kills him and leaves. He feels... frustrated.

He remembers a hallway. Steve was carrying him away from something. From them. They tried to take him once and Steve saved him. And then he fell and they took him again and Steve didn't save him. That is what happened.

**

It's very confusing when he goes to Steve. Steve seems very scared and sad, and Bucky thinks maybe it is because he was trying to kill Steve before, but he left all his weapons on the roof and he is trying his best to look at the floor and be submissive. Steve is sad anyway. Steve offers him many things and that is confusing too, because he can remember Pierce doing that, and when Pierce did it he was always supposed to be silent. Steve is frowning.

Then Steve tells him what to do, and that's better. Bucky does everything he's told. He sits and then he eats and he tells himself, over and over, that Steve is different. It is very important to remember Steve is different. Everything he remembers with Steve is very, very different.

He tries asking for water and he doesn't get hit. Steve gives him water. He must remember that things are different.

**

It's still hard when Steve asks him questions but when Steve tells him what to do it is so, so easy. Nothing Steve tells him to do hurts. He gets in the shower and stands in the water and tries to think of how to make Steve happy. He's supposed to. He's sure of it. That's what he used to do. He's supposed to...

He's supposed to make Steve happy and never tell him.

Never tell him what?

He will figure it out later.

Bucky gets out and finds the towel Steve told him about. He remembers this - he wraps it around his waist and walks out, looking for Steve, for the next thing he should do.

Steve is there and he gives Bucky clothes. Bucky puts them on but Steve's frowning and that means he did something wrong. He's not going to ask what. He is not going to take that big a risk. Steve asks him if he's tired and he doesn't - he doesn't completely understand if it's a trick, but Steve is different, he has to remind himself, over and over again. It is important. He nods but it's difficult but Steve doesn't hurt him, so it must have been okay.

But Steve is still sad. Steve was sad before, he remembers, when Bucky did not remember who he was. So Bucky tells him about the hallway and how Steve wasn't small anymore, because he remembers that part, he knows that part was important. And Steve looks strange, but not sad, not scared.

Steve tells him to sleep. Bucky tries very very hard.

**

A phone rings and Bucky wakes up. He makes sure not to open his eyes or move. He can't remember the last time he woke up from sleep. It is strange. There is nobody in the room, he realizes. There are no technicians. Nobody is checking his vitals.

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Makes himself remember.  _In order_. He is here because he came here and he slept because Steve told him to and in the next room Steve is talking. He is talking on the phone. The voice on the other end of the phone is the man he's been looking for Bucky with.

Bucky tries to listen to the words but his head hurts. It hurts worse than it did before. It is hard to listen.

Steve comes in so Bucky stands up. Steve asks him things but it is hard. It is so hard and his head hurts. He fails. The phone rings again and Steve leaves the room.

Steve is talking on the phone again. Bucky shuts his eyes and stands very still and tries to remember the protocol for when he's injured when he belongs to Steve. He doesn't remember the protocol, and he doesn't know what kind of injury to report. It is hard to concentrate. His muscles don't ... don't feel right. He decides it is safer not to say the wrong protocol. Steve is supposed to be happy and he isn't. Things are already wrong. He is already failing.

Steve comes in and mentions medical attention, but not for his head. His arm. His arm doesn't hurt. Steve waits and so Bucky asks when he should go, but that was wrong too. Steve looks sad and says they're going together.

**

Steve gives him new clothes. Some of them smell like Steve and that's - something feels strange in Bucky's chest and he doesn't know what it means yet. He puts the clothes on.

Steve takes him downstairs and they get in a cab. Bucky's supposed to avoid public transport but things are different with Steve. The cab goes to an airport and Steve gets out so Bucky does too. They follow a woman. They go outside and it's windy and he thinks about when he was small and it was windy. He went to Steve's apartment and helped him when he was sick. He tries hard to remember this so he can tell Steve later. It might make him happy.

They get on a plane. The plane is strange. There is a covered socket in the middle of the floor of the plane. Bucky understands the rest of the plane, but he doesn't understand what the socket does.

A different woman comes and asks them questions about what they want. Steve looks at Bucky but Bucky can't feel sure that it isn't a trick, so he doesn't say anything. He's not sure if he was right or not. Steve's phone rings again and he talks more. Bucky looks out the window and tries to remember a time when his head hurt like this. Why it happened. What made it stop. Maybe it has never happened before.

Steve asks him to hold his arm out so Bucky does. Steve pulls the clothes back and looks at it and says he's going to take a picture. That someone is going to give him a new one.

Bucky feels fear rise up in his throat. He remembers the. He remembers the first. He remembers. They cut him. They cut him and.

Steve is talking again, faster, louder. The left arm. His metal arm. They're not taking his right arm. They're replacing his left arm.

Will that hurt less? Will it be like maintenance? Does Steve have technicians? Bucky doesn't remember any technicians but the fear fades away. Things are different with Steve. He must remember. They are not going to cut him.

Steve puts his hand on Bucky's wrist. Bucky doesn't know what it means. Steve tells him a story about when they were young and asks if Bucky remembers it. He doesn't. He is failing.

**

Bucky is failing but he gets food anyway. It is not in an IV. The last food was in a cardboard box, but this is on a plate. Steve eats something that looks the same. Bucky eats his. His head feels a little better. Maybe this is what he needs to stop his head from hurting. He eats everything they give him.

**

They get out of the plane and into a helicopter. The helicopter is more familiar but he has not been in this one before. The helicopter takes them to a roof. He is in New York City. This is where he wandered, where they took him in again and were very angry that he had wandered. He thinks this is also where he was young.

The roof has advanced security cameras. They go inside. Steve has been here before. Steve is talking to AI. Steve takes him down a hallway and into an elevator. Steve asks him if he knows who Howard is and he doesn't but he mustn't, mustn't lie, even if the truth will make Steve unhappy, so he doesn't say anything. Steve says Howard Stark and there's something, something about the far away place, but it's not enough, it's not a real memory. He is failing. Steve says Tony is Howard's son. The doors open and maybe Tony  _is_ a technician. It looks a little like where they worked.

Sometimes what the technicians did hurt. When it was maintenance on his arm, it didn't. Bucky decides that it's not important because Steve wants it. Steve and Tony talk, and then Tony tells him to do things, and that is easy. The machines do things and none of it hurts.

Tony asks Bucky if he knows how to detach his arm. What a strange question. Maybe he isn't a technician?

Tony carries things over and asks Bucky if he's "with" him. Technicians would sometimes ask him this when he woke up. It meant was he conscious and aware so he says yes. And then Tony tells him this new arm isn't strong. Maybe Tony is still a technician. This arm must be temporary.

He was allowed to ask the technicians questions without getting hurt, sometimes, so he asks if he's on leave until the new arm is built. The stronger one.

Steve is angry. Bucky feels like he might vomit. Steve tells him there aren't any more ops but that doesn't... make sense. He must have misunderstood.

Tony says the new arm should take a couple of days. That does make sense.  He says other things, and then Steve is angry at Tony, and they argue. Bucky doesn't know what to do so he stays still. He has failed so much. He is probably going to get wiped. He is already near a technician. It is likely. He can feel the rubber in his mouth, and his head hurts more. He moves his mouth to prove to himself there is no rubber.

Tony asks him a question about his arm. Tony is a strange technician to ask these questions. Bucky answers the question. They talk and then Steve asks him if he'll be alright. Bucky doesn't understand what that means and he doesn't want to get wiped so he doesn't say anything.

Tony asks if he remembers anyone doing "this" before, but he doesn't know what "this" is. He didn't tell him to listen to what they were saying. Do they mean getting a new metal arm? Tony asks if he wants to bite down on something. Bucky makes himself hold still and doesn't speak.

Steve says they'll stop if Bucky needs them to. He says they're doing this to help him. He asks if Bucky understands. He should confess. He doesn't. But he doesn't want to get wiped. He wants to remember the things he's found. He wants to keep them.

Steve says he's going to take care of Bucky.

He's said that before. Bucky was drunk. He felt... strange. He'd felt strange then and he feels strange now. Steve is... important, in some way he doesn't understand.

That. That is the thing he is not supposed to say.

**

Bucky strips to the waist and lays down. Tony does things to his arm that do not hurt, but then it  _does_  hurt, and Steve looks so sad, and then it hurts more, and Bucky struggles to keep still. There is nothing holding him down. There is no metal and there are no straps. He must hold still. Steve is frowning. Steve holds him down and asks him something but Bucky doesn't know what he says. He shuts his eyes. He is failing. He must hold still. He must hold still.

Tony says something and stops doing things to his arm. It still hurts but he can hold still now. It hurts less. His arm feels strange. He cannot feel it. It hurts but he cannot feel it. He sits up and tests the motors and the motors work. He tells Tony he can't feel it. Tony tells him the next one will have feeling, and hands him a screwdriver to practice fine motor skills with. Bucky balances it like a knife and gives himself an objective: to twirl it through his fingers. When he can do that, his hand is calibrated enough.

Steve leaves with Tony. Bucky finds that he doesn't want Steve to leave. It is because he is afraid and confused and because of the thing he shouldn't say. He focuses on the screwdriver. Steve and Tony are outside talking. He can't hear them. He focuses on the screwdriver. The handle is red.

He drops it, picks it back up, and tries again. It twirls through his fingers. It still hurts, at the shoulder, but he can twirl the screwdriver. Tony comes back and says he will draw blood. He says he will draw it with a needle way, not in a fighting way. Bucky thinks it might be a joke. He holds his right arm out. Tony doesn't tell him to put the screwdriver down, so he keeps twirling it through his fingers. He is completing a small objective. He assigned it himself, but he still feels something good because he is completing it. His hand is calibrated. He has tested it.

Steve comes back. Tony talks to him and tells Bucky to lay down. Bucky asks what he should do with the screwdriver and Tony takes it and gestures that he should lie down now. He looks angry. Bucky doesn't want to make Tony angry - he has no memory of Tony. Tony might hurt him to teach him not to make him angry. Bucky lies down quickly.

Steve is asking if he's okay. Bucky tells him it doesn't hurt anymore. He hopes that will make Steve happy. Steve was very sad when he knew Bucky was being hurt. Steve asks Bucky if he remembers things, and Bucky does, and he works very hard to get it right: the time he was drunk and wanted something. He doesn't mention that he wanted something. The time Steve was sick and Bucky helped him and fed him-

It is here.

Bucky stares at it. Tony is holding it. It is smaller but it is... it is that. They are going to wipe him. He remembered and he told them two things and he failed many things and they are going to wipe him. Tony is arranging it on the table.

Steve was supposed to be different.

Bucky looks at Steve. Steve looks confused. Steve isn't stopping Tony. Tony is still pushing buttons. They are going to do it. They are going to wipe him. Steve is saying something to Bucky and then he is saying something to Tony and Tony is arguing. Tony wants to wipe him. Steve  _does not want_ Tony to wipe him _. Steve is protecting him._

_Steve_

_is_

"- _you_  lay down and use it, show him it's-"

no

no

no

Bucky cannot let that happen. He must break rules to keep that from happening. He gets up without being told to and moves and grabs Tony and makes himself say it, he says it, he makes it a rule, that Steve cannot be wiped. By anyone. It must not happen. He is holding Tony and making sure he understands. His head hurts so much. He must concentrate. He must make sure this does not happen.

Steve tells him to let go of Tony. He says Tony was not trying to hurt him. Bucky tells him he is wrong. Steve has not been wiped before. He does not understand. He needs to be protected. He must not be wiped.

He is already breaking the rules so he keeps talking. He bargains. He is not supposed to bargain. He says he already belongs to Steve and that they don't need to wipe him to make him his. They had to do that. Steve does not have to do that. He tries very hard to explain and the words come out strangely and his voice hurts and he doesn't know why and then Steve is holding him. He is not holding him down or hurting him. He is just holding him. Steve is crying.


	11. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> This picks up at [Chapter 10 of Circling Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1467004/chapters/3267314), if you're interested in side-by-siding.

Steve takes him out of the room and into the elevator again. They do not go back to the roof. They go down. Bucky feels it. Steve takes him to a residence hall and into a bedroom. He sits Bucky on the bed and puts a blanket around him and asks him things.

Then Steve says things. He says they don't want to hurt him. They say they are not going to make him forget anything. (It worked?) He says there are no more missions. He says he's not Bucky's handler but something else. His friend. Bucky doesn't understand that. Is that why he's been obeying the wrong way? Is that why he hasn't been punished, either?

Steve says it is like before, when they were small. He asks if Bucky remembers that. Bucky says he does, but he cannot lie or withhold important information, so he confesses he can't take care of Steve like he did. He keeps failing and Steve is constantly unhappy. He cannot do it anymore. He has been trying.

Steve says that doesn't matter and that is also confusing. His head hurts so much. HIs body is telling him to do things that don't make sense. Steve is very close to him but not hurting him or maintaining him. His smell is familiar. His voice is very familiar. His body wants to get closer to him and Bucky doesn't understand the reason. He remembers he's not supposed to mention it. It's very important.

Steve says it might be his turn. Bucky asks for what. Steve says to take care of Bucky. Steve asks if Bucky trusts him to do that, but Bucky doesn't understand what that means. Trust him with what? Bucky doesn't remember enough. He needs to remember more. He confesses that he's failing. Steve says he will help him remember. Bucky feels relieved. His body keeps telling him to do things. To get closer. He is already very close. It does not seem to make Steve angry. Bucky stays there.

Steve pulls the blanket away and tells Bucky to lie down. Bucky's body presses close to Steve's because it wants to and Bucky can't stop it. Steve does not get angry or sad. It feels good. Steve's hands are on his head. Bucky wants to make a sound but he doesn't.

Steve asks Bucky to tell him what he remembers. Bucky tells him and Steve adds things. It also feels good. Steve laughs at one thing, and the sound feels good. He doesn't remember sounds feeling good before. His body is getting more insistent. He wants to get closer. Bucky's head hurts and it is hard to concentrate on doing and not doing so many things. He puts a hand on Steve's side and tests. It feels very good. Steve does not look angry or sad. His hands are... they are playing with his hair. That is how you say it. Steve's hands are playing with Bucky's hair and it is very good. Steve's hand moves to his shoulder. Bucky wants it to keep happening. He tells Steve more things he can remember. Anything. Steve keeps adding things. The pictures in Bucky's mind get bigger and fill up. Steve laughs again. His fingers touch Bucky's neck and it's not to hurt him, it's to make him feel good, and it makes Bucky's body feel something different. The noise happens. Bucky makes the noise. He didn't mean to. Steve's hand stops for a second, but he is not angry or sad.

Bucky holds still and remains quiet. Steve does not ask him to say any more things. Steve keeps playing with his hair. Bucky wants it to keep happening and it does for a long time. Steve falls asleep. His hand stops but he is asleep and Bucky likes that. Bucky looks up at his face because Steve will not know, Steve will not know he was not submitting correctly and looking away. Bucky looks at Steve's face for a long time and his body feels strange so he stops. He looks back down and stays still. Steve smells very familiar. Bucky feels tired and nobody told him to sleep but they are on a bed and Steve fell asleep so maybe he is allowed to as well. Things are different with Steve. He closes his eyes. He falls asleep.

**

The AI says something and Steve wakes up. He pulls away from Bucky, which is... Bucky did not want that. Steve gets up and starts going through dressers. Bucky's head still hurts but it also feels clearer. It is easier to think. He watches Steve looking for things.

He tries asking Steve what he is looking for. Steve tells him and does not hurt him. He takes off a shirt and gives it to Bucky. It will smell like Steve. Bucky puts it on and thinks about this. The idea is good but he doesn't know why. Steve says something Bucky misses and they go to another room.

The room has food and it smells so good. This might be a test. Bucky  _will_  pass. He remembers this test. He does not move or touch the food. Steve tells him to sit down so he does. The food smells familiar. Has he had this before? Steve asks why Bucky is not serving himself food. That means he should. He does. It is so close to him. He waits a moment.

If he can serve himself food maybe he can eat it.

Steve is different.

Bucky cuts some of the food and eats it and nothing happens. It tastes good. Steve is not angry or sad.

Bucky keeps eating.

Steve talks to the AI and eats. Pictures appear in the air for Steve to look at. He makes a confused face. Bucky keeps eating. It tastes so good. It tastes familiar. It is almost gone. He tries to slow down so it will last longer but it is hard. Steve talks to the AI more. They are talking about him. He hears 'Sergeant Barnes'. That is his name from before. In the museum. The food is gone. He does not serve himself more. He will pass the test.

Steve asks him if he wants more. Bucky does not speak. He will pass. Steve tells him to eat until he is full and then stop.

 _He did it right. He gets more._  Bucky serves himself more food and eats it. He is not failing. One of the things is steak. He remembers now. It is steak. It is so good. The other things are also good. His head hurts less. His stomach hurts less. He could twirl the screwdriver. He is not getting wiped. Nobody is hurting Steve. There are many good things. Bucky eats more.

**

Steve finishes eating. They leave the plates and go back to the residence hall. To the same room. Two people have been there. There are light tracks on the carpet. The shoes are heels. Two women. Shoe size 7, about 70 kg, shoe size 6, about 50 kg. They walked calmly. No traces of perfume. They left articles of clothing. Steve goes to examine the clothing.

Steve gives him some pants and Bucky begins to put them on, but Steve tells him no. Steve asks him to take a shower. "Why don't you." It means Steve wants him to. No orders. Steve wants him to. Bucky goes to the bathroom and starts the water.

The water comes out differently than it did in the other shower. The spray is different. There is a red side and a blue side on the lever. He remembers this. Hot and cold. It is meant to be adjusted. Bucky can choose. He is supposed to. Steve did not pick for him this time.

Bucky pushes it toward hot and gets in. It is cold for a few seconds and then it is hot. The water feels good. It does not feel as good as Steve's hands did. Bucky wants that to happen again but he does not know if it will. He does not know if he can ask for that. He does not know how. He looks for a bar of something white without knowing why. There isn't one. He shuts off the water. He gets out. There are towels. Steve told him to use one last time. He should do that again. He takes the one on the top and wraps it around his waist. He leaves the bathroom.

Steve is doing something on his phone. He looks at Bucky and frowns. He is not sad or angry but he is frowning. He says he wants to show Bucky something and leads Bucky back to the bathroom. Steve turns the water on but changes it, making it come from the spout. Bath. He remembers these. You sit instead of stand. You must watch children when they sit to make sure they do not lay down. They could drown because they are children. You must watch them.

Steve goes back to the bedroom. He comes back. He has clothing. Bucky puts it on. Steve picks up one of the bottles in the room and opens it. He pours some of the liquid into the water next to the spout. It smells. Bucky likes it. Steve tells him it is lavender. He shows Bucky how the bottles work. Steve tells him they used to have one of them but Bucky doesn't remember. Steve says it was different then. He didn't fail, then. That's good.

Steve picks up another bottle and squeezes it to make air come out. The smell is different but Bucky likes that one too. Steve talks more and Bucky feels... anticipation. He wants to try this. Steve says he needs to wait more so Bucky does. He watches the water fill up. It is clean and clear. The liquid is making bubbles. The water is on 'hot'.

When they hosed him down, before, the water was never hot. It was always cold and it hurt. Nothing smelled like anything. It was just cold water and he turned when he was told to.

There are more and more bubbles in the water from the liquid. He touches them. Baths are supposed to be good. He doesn't remember having one. He remembers wanting Steve to have one. Steve was sick and he wanted Steve to feel good from the bath. He wanted to show Steve he could take care of him. He wanted to be closer.

Steve asks if he is remembering something. Bucky does it right: he tells all the things he is supposed to tell. He does not tell the other thing. He does not know the word for it yet. He is sure there is a word for it.

They talk more about the memory. The bubbles are very unusual but familiar. They are the same. Nothing  _they_  had was like bubbles but before that, when he was young, bubbles were exactly like this. He is sure of it. They stretched until they couldn't anymore and they sat on your skin. They floated on water. They were every color and no color.

They talk more. Steve says the bath is ready. Bucky stands up and gets in. He can feel the water everywhere on his skin and it feels strange where he is bruised and cut. Steve asks him if it is too hot. He asks how he would know. Steve says it would hurt. It doesn't, and Bucky tells him so. Steve gets a cloth and adds some liquid to it. He dips it in the water and gives it to Bucky. This is familiar. Rivers. Streams. Buckets. He scrubs at his body to make it clean and the liquid smells get on him. They are supposed to.

Maybe there really are no more missions. He can smell distinctive. If there were missions he could not smell distinctive. No missions for now at least.

Bucky scrubs and his thoughts keep coming. If there are no missions what does he do? More maintenance? The arm will take days. Tony said that. He has slept twice now and both times he thought more clearly afterwards. He wants to think more clearly. He wants to sleep more.

Bucky tries to ask and stops. He is scared. Steve tells him he can ask things.

 _He must remember this_. This is important. This is different.

He asks about sleeping and Steve is confused. He talks more and Steve understands. Steve asks if it hurts. Bucky tells him it doesn't. Steve asks if he didn't sleep when he was with them. It is strange that he doesn't know. It is strange to be around people who don't know these things. Tony asked him strange things about his arm. Things a technician would know. Bucky explains when he slept. He thinks he's not going to have missions anymore, but they aren't going to freeze him anymore either. He says so.

Steve doesn't like it.

Bucky made a mistake. He asks if he shouldn't talk about freezing. Steve says he wants Bucky to know those things won't happen anymore. What are 'those things'? Bucky asks. Steve gets very sad. Steve pulls his legs up and hides his face. Bucky is failing. He continues scrubbing himself but it is too late. Steve is not looking. He is already sad. The water isn't clear anymore. There are bits of black and red at the bottom. Dried flecks of blood. Soot. Dirt.

People would hurt Steve, before. When he was small. He would come home to their small room and Bucky would use a cloth to wipe the blood away. The cloth would come away red.

Steve is still curled up. He is sad. Bucky scrubs more but it does not make Steve happy. He does not have any other tasks to fulfill to make Steve happy. He thinks about telling Steve more things he remembers, but he doesn't. He wants to remember a  _good_  thing, and tell Steve that thing. Not of when Steve would get hurt. Something else. He can't think of a good thing.

The bottles are nice. Maybe Steve will like those. He picks one up and opens it, pressing like Steve did to make air come out. He says Steve's name. He presses the bottle again. Steve comes over. He tells him what the bottle is and tells him to get his hair wet. Bucky obeys. The smell is apples. He says the word. He tips back. The water feels good on his scalp.

The water gets in his ears. Water got in his ears when he pulled Steve out of the water. It would not get out of his ears. Steve would not wake up. He left Steve so he would not hurt him. He walked away for a long time.

Steve is talking. He's holding out the bottle but Bucky's not sure what to do. The water isn't running anymore. The bubbles won't come up. Steve frowns but his eyes also dilate, which means - something - Steve pours the liquid into his palm and rubs his hands together. He puts his hands in Bucky's hair and it feels good again, but not like before. Different. There is liquid. It is getting in his hair and making it feel nice.

Steve tells him he used to not hold still. Bucky wants this to keep happening. He says he can hold still. He will hold very still, even if his body does not want to.

Steve talks more and Bucky focuses on holding still. The fingers feel good. The water feels good. His mind is clearer but his body is not clear. His body is filled with things it wants to do. It wants to sink under the water and feel the warmth on every place. It wants to move toward Steve to get touched more. It wants to say things but Bucky doesn't know what the words are or mean. He must hold still. Steve's fingers are gentle and press in different places. The liquid is everywhere. It smells good and Bucky must hold still.

Steve's fingers go to a new place near his ear and it feels so, so good. His body moves even though he did not want it to. He failed slightly. He pulls himself into stillness again. If he fails Steve might stop. Steve will not hurt him, but Steve might stop. Steve says his name. Bucky says it again: he can hold still. He will do it. He wants. He wants. Something.

Steve talks about food tomorrow. Something unfamiliar. Bucky does his best to listen. Food is not as important as this. Food is very good but it is not as good as this.

Steve takes his fingers away and tells him to tilt back again so he does. He does not complain or ask for anything. Asking questions is different than asking for things. There is no way he could have both.

The warm water goes over his scalp again. Steve's hands  _come back_. They stroke his head and his body wants it to never stop. His body wants it to never stop but also for something else to happen. He doesn't know what it is but he tries not to think about it. Whatever it is makes him want to move. Steve's hand does something and the feeling goes through the skin to his head to his back to his stomach and Bucky moves and he  _wants_  and then Steve is gone.

Bucky sits up. The water falls down him. Steve is gone. Steve left. Bucky moved and Steve left.

Steve is gone.

Bucky concentrates. Bucky moved and Steve left. This is the thing he is not supposed to talk about. This is the thing he wants. He does not know what he wants but he wants to do something, or he wants Steve to do something, and he must not talk about it and if he lets his body demonstrate it, Steve will leave. Steve will disappear.

Will Steve come back?

Has he completely failed?

His body is pressing against his clothing and it hurts. Bucky is confused. He sits very still and nothing happens. He waits. The water becomes cold. It hurts a little. He tries very hard to concentrate.

You get out of baths when they get cold. That is what you do. Bucky should not wait for Steve to tell him to get out because Steve might not come back and the water is cold so he should get out.

He gets out. The next thing is a towel. He does it like before, around his waist. He goes to the bedroom. Steve is not there. Bucky's chest hurts. It hurts so much and he sits down and puts his head against the wall. He feels scared. He does not know why Steve left. He does not know why his body pressed against his clothes like that. He does not know what made his body stop doing that. The carpet is wet under his legs. He needs to learn what to do. Things are different. He must learn how they are different. Steve might still come back. Earlier, he left with Tony and then came back. Steve might still come back.

You get out and then you put on a towel. Then you put on clothes. That is what comes next. Bucky gets up. The women left clothes on the dresser and Steve gave him some. The clothes are men's clothes. They are for him. Bucky should wear those. Bucky must pick some.

His head hurts. His head hurts in the front like little spikes but there are no spikes. The spikes feel like they are inside his head. That cannot be true. It is like when electricity feels like fire. There is no real fire. It is just what it feels like. Bucky sits on the floor again.

The carpet under his skin becomes damp again. It is darker than the rest of the carpet. The other place where he sat down is also darker.

Steve once came home and his clothes were darker from water because it had rained. Bucky had been angry and made him take his clothes off and dry himself. Steve could get sick. You are not supposed to be wet and wear clothes.

Bucky dries off with the towel and puts it back in the bathroom. The boxers are wet. He takes them off and puts on new ones that are dry. He looks at the clothes. Some are for going outside and some are for sleeping in. He looks out the window and guesses. He puts on the soft pants and the soft shirt and some socks. He puts on the soft shirt with the zipper too. It is very warm.

He does not know what he should do next. It cannot be right to sleep without being told to. He would never go into cryo without being told to. He stands there for a long time.

A door opens and closes in a room across the hall. Bucky tries not to -- hope. Hoping. He is hoping it is Steve. He is hoping Steve is coming back. There are footsteps and they are heavy and tall and that could be Steve. Another door opens and closes and someone is in the hallway. The door opens and it is Steve. Bucky looks at him and cannot stop looking at him. Steve is here. Steve is in a towel. His body stirs. Bucky makes himself remain perfectly still.

Steve wants the clothes so Bucky moves out of the way. Steve takes sleeping clothes to the bathroom to change. Steve is back. Steve did not leave forever. Bucky stays very still while he waits for Steve to change.

Is he sleeping in the bed with Steve like before? Or on the floor? It was always the floor before. When they had him. When he had to sleep. It was always the floor.

Steve comes back and Bucky asks. Steve tells him he can sleep here and that it is just for him. Does that mean Steve is sleeping across the hall? Away from him? Bucky can't ask him to do something. That's impossible. But he wants Steve to not be far away. He needs Steve to stay closer than that. He tries to talk, to bargain again, says he won't go away. (Steve wanted to find him very badly. He knows Steve is worried Bucky will leave like on the river bank.)

His room. It's supposed to be for him. Bucky tries to act correctly. Clothes go in dressers. He puts them there and Steve watches him. Steve starts talking and it sounds important. Bucky forces himself to pay attention. Steve is talking about what he wants.  _This is very important_. If he can give Steve those things or do those things Bucky will not fail. He will succeed. Bucky listens carefully.

"I want you to be okay. I don't - I don't know what that means, yet, or, or how to get there. I want you to remember who you are. All the  _good_  things you've done for me, for our country. I really, I really want you to remember me. Us. I want you to feel safe and like you don't have to be controlled anymore."

Bucky holds very still. He can understand some of those things but not all of them. Okay means unhurt. Remembering good things. Remembering Steve. Feeling s- there are so many things and they're hard to -

"What do  _you_  want?"

 _Bucky must not tell him_. Bucky must not tell him but Steve is looking at him and he is sad and wanting and he wants, he wants to know the answer. But Bucky remembers so solidly. The only thing more important than not telling him is keeping him safe. Steve will not look away and Bucky's body wants to be closer and maybe, maybe like on the bed, maybe like on the bed before he can be close without it being bad, maybe. Steve is still looking at him and he wants. To be close.

Steve says 'please' and Bucky is disobeying. He is not saying or doing anything and Steve wants an answer. Maybe like on the bed. Bucky moves closer and Steve does not move away, does not leave. Bucky moves closer and Steve does not move away or leave. Steve's eyes are dilating again but he looks scared. But he is  _not leaving_. He is not telling Bucky to stop. Bucky gets very close and holds still. Maybe Steve will hold him like he did before. Maybe.

Steve's arms move and they pull him closer and hold him. It feels so good. Bucky did it right. His eyes feel wet.


	12. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> Suggested viewing for this chapter over on [Youtube](http://youtu.be/W7QZnwKqopo?t=1m48s). (About thirty seconds of supremely important bird dances.)

" _No_ , you mook!"

It's too late - Thor grins and reaches out to summon his hammer. Peter is laughing and sticking to it with both hands and feet, getting pulled along for the ride as the thing rises up into the air and whirls over to Thor. It's thankfully only the length of the gym, but Peter looks a bit frazzled when he disentangles himself and drops to the floor with a thunk.

"That is  _really fast_ ," he tells Thor. "Hey, lemme try to pick it up."

"Very well, Spider, you may try."

Bucky throws his hands up. "Thor, you can't sub anymore. Stark, I don't care if you own the building, if I hear you say 'do it for the vine' during training again, I'm kicking you out of the gym. Parker, laps. Now."

**

Bucky says he wants to try swimming with his new arm, so they change and head out to the patio. Darcy and Jane are there, on a break from the labs. Darcy's sprawled out with her legs dangling in the pool but still managing, impressively, to sulk.

"Just, you know." Bucky sticks his arms out to the side and hops a little left to right, making a weird 'tkk' noise. "Like the jungle bird in the documentary."

Darcy kicks some water at him.

"Well, it worked for me," Bucky says, and Steve rolls his eyes and picks a spot in the shade to lay down.

"If I gyrated against Bruce like you did to Steve, I'm pretty sure we'd have to rebuild half the Tower."

Jane smirks. "I keep telling her she should make him something."

"Yeah. I'll glue some raw macaroni to a plate in the shape of a heart. The height of intelligent courtship."

"You're selling yourself short, Darcy." Steve stretches out and watches Bucky slide into the pool. He winces a little at the temperature before treading some water and trying a few laps. He keeps looking at his left arm, as if making sure that it isn't going to short out or something.

"Um. You could always bake? A da- er, a girl made me pound cake once, I nearly fell in love... or is that too old-fashioned now?" Bucky looks to Steve questioningly.

Steve shrugs. "I think people still do that."

"My skills top out at those Funfetti cupcakes.  _God_." Darcy flops onto her back dramatically, legs kicking out and stirring up the water. "No more advice please. Just let me be a dumb baby in peace."

Jane, Bucky and Steve share a 'we tried' shrug.

**

Later that afternoon, there's an attempted robbery downtown. The security cameras were already shot out, but when the cops get there they find several semiautomatics cocooned up in webbing on the roof, and witnesses say the getaway van was pulled off the road and into an alleyway by some crazy white ropes. One woman swears she saw a man with wings swoop down and grab a masked perp that was trying to escape over a chain-link fence.

All six suspects are found webbed to their own van.

**

Bucky tells Steve he talked to Tony and got himself on the secret shared calendar for the Pym Project.

"I'm 'On Call'," Bucky says, making quotation marks with his fingers. Steve rolls his eyes because Bucky has been working hard lately to include as many modern quirks as possible in his conversation, just to annoy him.

"Well, if you ever want backup, or someone to help carry chips, let me know."

"There are those Toasty things with lime in the pantry now. Do you think he's tried those?"

"They're called Tostitos. Maybe not."

**

" **Funny lady come later?** "

"I dunno, buddy." Bucky looks up to the hologram clock on the wall. 02:54. "It's pretty late. She's probably asleep and didn't hear the text."

The Hulk's brows come together, lines forming on his forehead. He grunts very softly, for him at least, and looks back to the television screen for a while. Steve nudges the second bean bag chair until it's next to Bucky's, getting comfortable.

" **Hulk not like these.** " He pushes the bag of lime-flavored chips, half of which have already been tilted into his mouth, into the corner. He sounds pretty sad for just having a bad snack experience.

**

T'Challa flies in a few days later and meets with Tony. He says he's gone through his cabinet and advisors with a fine-tooth comb, but he has concerns about some neighboring countries and he can't, politically, say or do anything about it without causing international distress.

"He thinks it's worse than just the usual corruption. Weird stuff's going missing. Not just money." Clint lifts his eyebrows in a way that clearly says 'HYDRA'.

Steve nods. "So what's the plan?"

"Low-key op, mostly information gathering. Nat and Tony and I will go, Tony'll hang back unless we need someone in the air or extra firepower. We'll leave next week. Shouldn't take more than four days." A small smile curls onto Clint's face. "T'Challa's staying in town til noon tomorrow, so guess who's coming to family dinner?"

**

Steve hears through Natasha that T'Challa had an endearing sort of panic when he discovered that the dinner was a  _potluck_ , but they managed to talk him down from ordering the chefs at the Embassy to start cooking for ten.

He  _does_  bring two bottles of red wine, which Pepper makes an impressed sound at when she sees the labels. (He also seems a little stiff at first, perhaps overly formal, but Peter's constant litany of sarcasm and jokes is impossible to miss, and Darcy spoons some of her experimental peanut-butter-chocolate-square batter into a finger bowl for T'Challa to taste. The tone is set.)

Sam makes spaghetti with meatballs. Pepper makes a salad with diced apples and cranberries. They leave French doors open a crack to let in the breeze.

"Don't you have that goat thing?" Clint asks T'Challa, once they've started eating.

"...goat... thing?" T'Challa echoes. He's passing the salad to Jane.

"It's like pulled pork but goat, with lentils all around it and you serve it on a giant platter." Clint gestures something large and round with stuff heaped on top, and Natasha leans in and stage whispers:

"He saw it on 'No Reservations'."

"Ahh, yes." T'Challa smiles conspiratorially. "I think a 'food adventure' could be in order during your visit."

Clint makes a satisfied grunt and points to T'Challa. "You have good missions. I like your missions."

"Ms. Romanoff, if there is anything my country could offer you during your visit, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Don't worry about me. I'm just excited for some fresh scenery and a good tan."

Tony leans back in his chair, making a show of waiting for an offer that doesn't come. "Nothing? No offers of sumptuous food, exotic gems, maybe some fine silks?"

T'Challa quirks an eyebrow. "It would be irresponsible of me to provide specifics, but once the issues with neighboring countries are resolved, the secure export of vibranium will be quite simplified."

"Never mind! Disregard complaints. I'm happy. We're all good. Everyone good? We're good. We're fab."

**

The day is winding down and Steve is overwhelmingly bored with his sketchbook. The picture he took of the pigeons at the cafe will make a good sketch, but his heart isn't in it right now, and the feathers won't cooperate.

"Draw me," Bucky says, breaking the silence.

"You?" Steve looks up to see Bucky pulling one leg up, striking something like a pose in his chair in the corner. It's unusual for him to lounge anywhere in the bedroom other than the bed, especially when Steve's in it, but he seems to be making the most of the spot. He drapes one leg over the armrest and leans back. Steve feigns disinterest. "So you can go snooping for it later, I'm sure."

Bucky rolls his eyes and smirks. "Maybe this time you won't hide it from me."

"Maybe." Steve flips to a new page, pretending not to notice the way Bucky's smile turns satisfied at the sound. It's not  _terrible_  lighting, but the sunlight coming in from the window only reaches his right side and his legs, so the shading is going to be a challenge. He starts on the rough form and loses himself in it for a while, enjoying the simple fact that he's allowed to study Bucky with such intensity and not have to play it off as purely artistic interest.

"Your hair is harder to draw now," he complains halfheartedly.

Bucky makes a mock-sympathetic noise and juts his chin out a little. "Want me to cut it shorter so you can draw it better?"

"That would be very considerate of you, yes." Bucky laughs at this and Steve hides his smile behind the book. He sits up fully on the bed, now, scooting back to lean on the headboard and start in on the detail of the cuffs of the jeans, the bare feet. Bucky's face is relaxed, content, and Steve moves his hand up the page to begin capturing the look.

"Well, I could be  _real_  considerate, if you wanted." Bucky's tone has lowered, and Steve looks up from the page to see fingertips hovering over the buttons of Bucky's shirt. "Clothes are hard to draw, right? All the folds?"

Steve arches a brow. "The shirt  _is_  kind of big on you." A complete lie. Bucky knows it. He starts unbuttoning anyway, pushing the fabric out of the way and looking over at Steve with an expression Steve is getting very, very familiar with.

Jarvis makes a sound as if clearing his throat. "Sirs, I beg you not to be alarmed, but you should know that Mr. Wilson is being admitted to medical."


	13. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

The hallway outside Sam's exam room is packed - Clint and Natasha are leaning against the wall with matching expressionless faces. Bruce has materialized from the middle of something complicated, if his lab coat and the goggles tangled in his hair are any indication.

"They wouldn't let any more people in," Bruce says quietly. "Jane and Darcy were on their lunch break, they're coming back now."

Steve nods. "What do we know?"

"Stable. Something happened in the labs," Natasha says. "Tony's in there now getting answers."

The wait is too long. Bucky starts pacing, and it's maddening enough that Steve finally reaches out and grabs his hand. Bucky sulks at first, but finally stands next to him and lets himself be tethered.

The door opens. "Not dying," Tony says immediately, because they have all learned that that is the first thing you say. He shuts the door behind him. "He chugged a bottle that said 'Drink Me Under No Circumstances Whatsoever' and thankfully has neither expanded nor contracted in size, so we have no idea what the stuff was  _supposed_  to do, but. He's okay. A little stomach pain, but they've got him on the good stuff."

"Wait,  _what_  did he drink?" Bucky's stepping forward and looking a little more menacing than he probably means to. Tony, to his credit, just cocks an eyebrow and answers.

"So, we all remember Pym? Yes? No? Doesn't matter. They found more of his stupid experiments. Some vials and stuff in one of the shared freezers. They call him, no answer, they call him again, finally they call his emergency contact,  _she's_  in town, so she comes by today. Apparently Sam found her in the lobby asking for an escort up to the labs and was all, 'Oh! Oh! The AI loves me! I have level 8 security! I can go anywhere!  _I'll_  take you to the labs!'"

Bucky scowls. "Sam doesn't sound like that."

" _He does right now_. Jesus, they put him on the good shit. He's high as a kite. Anyway." Tony physically swats away the sidebar conversation. "So he's helping Janet van Dyne,  _Janet van Fucking Dyne_ , get all this junk to her car, and I guess he had a bottle of Gatorade? Which he put in the tray of flasks so he could carry it with both hands?"

Bruce is making a very long, drawn-out pained sound that is difficult to listen to. "No."

"Oh no, Bruce, he  _did_."

" _No._ "

"He  _did_. He was so busy trying to impress this girl he  _took a swig of_ -"

"What  _was_  it?" Steve interjects.

"Again: no idea!" Tony throws his hands up. "That's the best part. We still don't know. It's Pym, so his tongue should have shrunk or engorged, but it didn't. He's physically fine. Stomach pains, that's it. They're running more tests. My money's on 'active ingredients expired months ago', but we're gonna keep testing, and in the meanwhile, Sam isn't letting me sue van Dyne because, and I quote, 'You cannot sue someone that cute'."

Steve is scanning his memory for the name, but nothing's coming up. "Should we know who she is?"

Tony sighs. "Probably not," he admits, "if you don't read scientific journals."

"She's a biochemist," Bruce says, as if it just rang a bell. "She's good, right?"

"Understatement." Tony crosses his arms. "Daughter of Vernon van Dyne, second generation biochemist. Not as good as her dad, but that's like saying someone's not as good an engineer as  _me_ , which is to say, it says almost nothing. Anyway. Her dad led a big team here back in the day. Died in some kind of biochemical thing, so he doesn't work here anymore.  _Did not die at work_. Wanna make that clear." Tony points at everyone in the room in hallway, as if making sure they're paying attention. Steve rolls his eyes.

"You'll call us if you learn what he drank," Steve says, "or if anything changes."

"I will  _text_  you, because it is 2014, but yes."

Clint grunts. Natasha looks at the door. "No possibility of van Dyne having done this intentionally?" She asks.

Tony rolls his eyes. "I saw Jarvis's footage myself. His fool ass did this on his own. Janet's only crime was inciting a really sudden and overwhelming crush."

 _And you still wanted to sue her,_  Steve doesn't say.

Clint snorts. "He's on bedrest?"

Tony nods. "No visitors for a while. Nurse Risper's in there and she will cut someone."

**

Tony goes back to his labs, and so does Bruce. Steve and Bucky go to the common room, where they sit down for a while on the couch. Bucky seems to be in a place where he needs to zone out and calm down, and Steve's suspicions are confirmed when Bucky gets up and walks out to the patio alone.

Steve calls Peter to let him know that evening's training session is probably canceled. He means to, anyway, but it ends up with Peter demanding to know if Bucky's alright, and Steve having to explain the situation with Sam, and Peter saying "I'll be right there" and hanging up.

Bucky walks back in. "I'm gonna go sit with him."

"We're not allowed in there right now," Steve reminds him gently.

"I know." Bucky looks pretty determined. "But Elise will let me back in if I sit in the corner and I don't wake him up. She's nice."

Steve decides Nurse Risper - Elise - must have been the one that held Bucky's hand when they were getting tissue samples a few weeks ago. Tony was right, Risper probably could 'cut someone', but Bucky might be right about her letting him in. "If you want to try. Just... don't wake him up if he's sleeping."

"I won't." Bucky's face goes tense, and he stands for a while doing nothing. Finally he bends down, kisses Steve's cheek, and leaves.

**

Steve was hospitalized once when he was about fifteen. Influenza. When he'd woken up, Bucky had been sitting quietly in the corner, having bargained and charmed his way into staying well past visiting hours. He didn't leave the hospital until Steve did.

**

_Tony Stark: [GROUP TEXT] Alice in Wonderland Update: Sam is still doing fine. You know who's not fine? Pym! Nobody can get him to pick up his phone because he's in some mental rehab center in the UK. This is why we can't have nice things. Ms. van Dyne is working on identifying the whatever it is Sam drank._

_Sam Wilson: [GROUP TEXT] whereis janet_

_Sam Wilson: [GROUP TEXT] :(((((((( no jant_

_Tony Stark: [GROUP TEXT] Someone please go to medical and take away Sam's phone._

**

Steve heads back to medical - Sam is laying back and hooked up to several machines, but he looks unharmed.

Drunk, actually. He looks drunk.

A young woman is seated by the bed. Bucky is missing, and Steve has a feeling he may have disappeared before this woman, who's likely Janet, ever even walked in. 

A nurse is writing something on Sam's sheet. "Five minutes," she says, before Steve can get a word in, and disappears. Sam waves to Steve without looking away from the young woman, who gets up from the chair by the bed.

"Are you Sam's friend? I'm Janet van Dyne, and I am  _so sorry_ , I - I was just telling him, Mr. Stark is letting me borrow some lab space to try to analyze the remainder of the substance."

Steve smiles. "We heard what happened, and it was clearly an accident. How's he feeling?"

" _Good!_ " Sam says, the same moment Janet replies, "Really woozy from the meds."

Steve grins. Sam has always been full of good humor, but seeing him ... intoxicated, almost ... is a new kind of 'happy'. The way he's looking at the back of Janet's head, you'd think she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "Did he really drink it thinking it was his Gatorade?"

Janet cringes. "He.. put his sports drink in the crate he was carrying to my car, and..."

"I am not a smart man."

"Don't say that!" Janet turns around. "People make mistakes. It's, um. It's very human." Something about the way she says it reminds him of the way Bucky occasionally echoes things his doctor has told him - a mantra that is supposed to be remembered. "And it's  _definitely_  not one of the mass-accelerating or reducing serums; those would have shrunk or expanded all the living tissue it came in contact with." Her face falls a little when she sees Steve's slightly alarmed face. "My, um, my ex worked on some really weird stuff."

"Yeah." Steve thinks about the text, and about what Tony said about Pym. "Sam, I'm gonna talk to Janet outside for a while. Janet, is that alright?"

" _That is not alright_ ," Sam says, just as Janet says, "Of course."

Steve swipes the phone on his way out, leading Janet to the exam room next door which is thankfully not in use. He decides this will do, and sits Janet down. If she was trying to call Pym, that means she must not know about where he is, and... even if just so she knows he can't pick up the scientific equipment, she should know.

"Oh," she says after he tells her, and her eyes look a little wet. "Oh, Hank."

Steve shifts uncomfortably. "I'm sure he's alright."

"No, it's - don't get me wrong, he um, he should've probably gone a while ago." Janet rubs at her eyes and turns away a little. "I tried for a long time to get him to talk to someone."

Steve nods. He's probably not the best person for this conversation, but someone needs to have it. "I should ask if there's anything about what you know about him that might help us figure out what's happened to Sam."

Janet hiccups and shrugs her shoulders, which shake a little. She's definitely crying. Steve bites his lip, gambles, and puts an arm on her far shoulder. To his relief, she leans into it instead of pulling away and glaring. Okay. He's helping.

"H-he, he can be paranoid, but he never wanted to  _hurt_  anyone. He wouldn't make anything destructive. He just... wanted to study particles! And insects."

"Insects?"

"Yup." She sniffs. "S'how we met. He was a guest lecturer in my Advanced Entomology course in grad school."

"So you like insects too, then?" Steve smiles in hopes that she'll smile back.

She laughs quietly. "I like the ones that fly."

A voice rises in the next room - Sam, greeting someone who just came in. He really does sound like someone who is too drunk to realize how loud he is. Janet smiles, already endeared.

"I couldn't've poisoned a nicer guy."

Steve laughs. "You really couldn't have."

"I put my number in his phone," she says quickly, as if just remembering. "If you need me for anything, just call, day or night."

"Thank you."

She looks up at him mischeviously. "His contact list is so funny, have you seen it?"

"Um, no, I haven't." Steve's not sure if contact lists on phones are considered private things, but either way, the subject is making Janet light up a little, so it's worth the risk. "What was it?"

"There were normal names and then, like, 'Mr. Roboto', and 'Other Bird', and 'Two Buck Chuck', and like..." She giggles. "He's so  _funny_. Oh, my favorite one was 'Captain Small-Ass'."

Steve stops smiling. "What?"

"I don't even know! When he sobers up, I'm gonna have to ask him who that is. Captain Small-Ass. Sam mentioned he's retired military, so maybe it's an old work buddy or something."

Steve had no idea that Sam's moronic joke from when they were on the road together had  _made it into his phone_. He bites back annoyance, composing himself, but it's too late. Janet is already pointing at him. "Oh my god! You're him, aren't you! You're him! Your Captain Sm-"

Her expression disappears and transforms into something different. Oh no. She's staring at his face.

"You're Captain _America_ ," she breathes.

"Yes, but-" He winces, standing up as if too uncomfortable to be close anymore. "It's really not that big a deal, please don't-"

She starts screaming in realization, still pointing, which is when Bucky rushes in on full alert, scanning the room for the threat.

"What happened?" Bucky can't quite seem to work out Janet's pointing-and-yelling thing, and Steve starts making frantic calming gestures.

"Everything's okay, B- um, she just, she just recognized me."

" _That's Captain Fucking America_ ," she half-yells at Bucky, pointing to Steve.

Bucky seems to relax a little, just enough to lift one eyebrow. "Is it?" He asks slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is [Janet](https://68.media.tumblr.com/fc412a4b67dc44bfccb9f0dcc4fe029e/tumblr_inline_nsmt2nQxJ51qgae8o_500.jpg).


	14. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> This follows right after [Circling Back Chapter 27](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1467004/chapters/3529469).

Bucky's alone and cold and his new arm burns at the shoulder. The bed sheets smell like Steve.

Steve, who is sleeping across the hall, who ran away just hours ago. Bucky replays it in his head.

Steve had held him in the lab. Then they were in the elevator. They were going to go lie down.

(He thought maybe...)

But then Steve left, dropped him off, fled to his own room to get away. Bucky had been too close and had made Steve uncomfortable. He'd completely ruined it.

Bucky rolls onto his side and tries to sleep on his own. It didn't work before, and it isn't going to work now. He gets up after a few minutes, pulling some pajama pants on and padding through the hallways. He pushes the elevator buttons instead of talking, going to the other apartments level.

"Can't sleep, sir?"

"No." Bucky frowns. The elevator doors open and Bucky picks a new room to explore. Far left. It's unlocked, just like the others.

There's a lot of light in this one coming in from the big windows, purple and yellow washed out glows from the city below. The lights make shapes on the ceiling and he dedicates a few moments to sitting on the carpet and looking at them. Rachel keeps telling him to let himself enjoy small harmless pleasures, even if they seem strange or silly. Bucky sits, then lays down, looking up at the shapes.

"Would you like to discuss it, sir?"

Bucky thinks about it. It's helped some nights. "I... I misunderstood Steve, and then I did the wrong thing. I acted the wrong way. So he left."

"Left, sir?"

Bucky knows Jarvis knows everything that happens, that he's smart enough to understand what he sees and hears. "He used to stay with me at night, but. Not anymore. He doesn't want, he. He doesn't." Bucky rubs at his face, trying to clear his head. "He doesn't want what I want."

"Sir?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "You  _hear_  me talking to Natasha," he says, no longer wanting to play along with the feigned ignorance. "You know, um. You know."

There is a pause. "Yes, sir."

Bucky gets up from the carpet and runs the fingertips of his right hand along one of the columns in the living space. It is grooved dark wood. The style is very strange. Maybe this one is going to be Thor's apartment. "Why did they stop working on these?"

"Sir?"

"All these apartments. The first one I went in doesn't have fixtures. The second one is missing a bunch of tiles."

"They were being built when the incident with the Mandarin occurred, sir. Work was put on hold, and has had not resumed due to various interruptions."

Bucky thinks about this, and then about the apartments. "Was Tony making an apartment for everyone?"

"Everyone involved in the Battle for New York, sir. Thor, Dr. Banner, Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton, Captain Rogers."

"Where's Steve's?"

"Up one floor, sir, furthest right."

Bucky lets go of the column and walks to the door, to the elevator. Jarvis opens and closes and opens the elevator doors for him. Bucky goes to the furthest right door on the new floor and opens it.

It's... nice. In the corner are several things in frames, not yet hung up, because the wiring in the wall is not yet complete. Bucky kneels down, lifting the clear plastic sheet off of them and flipping through one by one. Black and white photographs of Brooklyn. Some paintings and watercolors Bucky remembers from the art books Steve would borrow from the library. They're nice.

He leans them back up against the wall and puts the sheet back over them. He looks at the room. "The windows," he says.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Stark asked me to select the room with the best natural light."

"For sketching?"

"Yes, sir."

Bucky walks to the windows and looks down. They're too high up for anything to really be at eye level, but if he gets close and looks down, he can see the city, light and dark, moving in places. The cars look like tiny beads rolling up and down, around corners. Bucky moves away, looking at the kitchenette. The appliances look... a little simpler, and nothing's chrome like in the other kitchens he's seen. There's a fridge instead of an icebox, but.

"He tried to make it look old."

"Yes, sir."

"Why does Stark do all these things and then pretend he doesn't?"

"That's an excellent question, sir."

Bucky goes to the fridge without knowing why, opening it. There is no light or gust of cold air. It isn't plugged in. He goes to the oven, opens it, looks, shuts it. Each cabinet door. Open, close. He goes to the desk. One of the drawers sticks.

"I thought new stuff was supposed to be perfect."

"That is an antique, sir."

"Oh." Bucky shuts the drawer and steps back, looking at it. It's hard for him to tell if it's just right, if it's from 'their time', because it's  _nice_ , and he and Steve never had anything this nice back then. Before. The desk Steve used to draw at was a wobbly mess with one repaired leg and deep scars along the surface. Second-hand.

Bucky moves toward the bedroom, then decides against it. It feels strange. Steve left him today. He left to go sleep in another bed. Steve wants space and this is... this will be his space. "Maybe I shouldn't be here."

Jarvis says nothing. Bucky turns and walks out to the hallway, to the elevator, and the doors open for him. They shut for him. He stares at the numbers. He can't pick one. Jarvis does not ask him.

Finally, he pushes the topmost button. The elevator rises up and the doors open, wind gusting against Bucky's face immediately. He walks out, takes off his t-shirt, and sits in the small rooftop garden.

"How is your arm, sir?"

Bucky thinks about it. "Sore. I'll be okay."

"It is 49 degrees Fahrenheit here, sir."

"I promise I won't stay long."

"You promised that  _last_  time, sir."

Bucky grins. "You can wake me up if my vitals get bad."

He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply. The wind is nice; it's fast and sharp and cuts at his face, his chest, pushes aggressively up his pant legs as if trying to chill as much of him as it can possibly reach. Bucky leans back and rests his head on the t-shirt, grass pricking at the skin of his back.

It is cold. He's staying still. This is what he wanted. This is cold but not nothing. He doesn't have to stay here. (But he wants to, so he does.)

There are little touches. Touches of wind and grass on his back. He can move if he gets uncomfortable. He can go inside if his body starts to shake from too much cold. He pulls his legs up a little, dragging the bottoms of his feet along the grass. The wind calms. Bucky curls on his side, then the other.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Wake me up at six."

"Yes, sir."


	15. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> As requested, the nicknames in Sam's contact list are:  
> Mr. Roboto - Tony  
> Other Bird - Clint  
> Two Buck Chuck -Bucky  
> Captain Small-Ass - Steve  
> HBIC - Nat  
> CEO HBIC - Pepper  
> Tall Green & Grumpy - Bruce  
> Robin - Peter  
> Jeeves - Jarvis  
> CAPSLOCK - Thor  
> Science Sis - Jane  
> Other Science Sis - Darcy  
> Big Love - T'Challa  
> #BLACKEXCELLENCE - Rhodey

When they visit again the next morning, Sam is much more coherent, sitting up and reading on his tablet. Bucky immediately hones in on a strange fabric thing on the windowsill, covered in feathers.

"What is it?" He picks it up, squinting at it and turning it around in his hands.

"That is a  _falcon_ , apparently." Sam says it with a poorly-hidden grin. "Apparently Darcy and Jane were using their lunch break to check out a craft shop when they heard I was sick, and Darcy panicked and bought... bird. Supplies."

"He's." Bucky searches for the word. "Cute." The eyes are two beads sewn on, and it sounds like it might be stuffed full of rice. It's less than symmetrical, but the love is definitely there.

"Yeah. I told Pepper the flowers were a nice thought, but that if she really cared? She'd come back after some time with a sewing machine and some fabric markers." Sam grins and looks over at Steve, expression softening. "I really do feel fine. And Janet  _promises_  nothing Kafka-y's gonna happen."

Bucky, not one to not get into things, puts the bird down and pulls Sam's medical sheet out from the foot of the bed. The brain scans are both familiar to Steve and completely different from the ones he's used to seeing.

"This is weird," Bucky says, and points at a spot.

"What?" Sam leans forward. "Yeah, they noticed that. Apparently it's harmless."

Steve doesn't know what that section of the brain does, or what makes this particular one 'weird', but he looks at it anyway. "What's that part do?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Man, like seven things. All the brain parts are weird. 'This part deals with reaction-time and how your tongue processes spicy foods.' 'This part deals with how you see colors, and whether or not you like dubstep.' 'This part controls the your left leg and if you can curl your tongue.'" Sam rolls his eyes. "Empathy, I think. And probably how well I can open jars."

"So you'll stop being such an uncaring dick?" Bucky makes a 'not bad' face. "Maybe this'll be a good change for you."

He dodges the bird.

**

Clint, Nat and Tony all visit Sam before their flight to Africa. Natasha promises to bring him back the tackiest thing she can find in the airport there, and Sam says he'll hold her to that.

_UNLISTED: If Bucky gets too quiet, remind him he can call me._

_Steve Rogers: You're only going for four days, right?_

_UNLISTED: Maybe five. Take care of him._

**

Steve wakes up from the Bucky-induced nap to a hand sliding up his shirt. It's warm and soft, with calloused fingertips, snuggling more than stroking, ignoring his nipples to focus on his stomach and sides, little gentle touches.

Steve stretches and makes an encouraging sound. He feels a nose press against the back of his neck, then a leg curl over his hip. It's heavy and comforting.

"Mmm," Steve says, and reaches down, curling his fingers around the knee.

"G'back to sleep." Warm lips against his neck.

"Kay." Steve does.

**

Sam's released from medical, although they ask him to stay in the Tower for a few days just in case something changes. He's waxing poetic to Bucky and Steve about Janet when Darcy interrupts by walking into the common area, dropping her work bag, and collapsing face-first into the sectional couch.

"Uh, Darce?" Sam frowns.

"Spinster freakout," Darcy mumbles into the pillow as an explanation, and Steve shares a confused look with Sam.

"Can you translate that into something that makes sense to the elderly, please?" Steve's joke goes ignored, and Darcy rolls onto her side and huffs.

"Cap, I'm pretty sure they did this in your day too. Any girl who goes long enough without dating someone occasionally experiences spinster freakouts."

"'I'll die alone and unloved'," Bucky translates, lifting an eyebrow. Darcy grunts agreement as he gets up from his chair to sit next to her.

"Maybe you guys  _wouldn't_  understand. Weren't you guys all married and drowning in babies by twenty-five?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "No," he says, but Bucky is already nodding along, smirking.

"It was practically a  _law_ , doll." He's letting his old accent creep back in, making Darcy perk up a little in interest. "Gosh, a guy didn't have a ring on a girl's finger by the time he was outta school? People figured he must be one'a those  _fairy_  types."

Darcy snickers and hides her mouth behind her hand. Bucky, egged on, leans back on his hands and looks at her through his lashes. "Speakin' of which, I'm startin' to push ninety-somethin'..."

Sam snorts.

"... maybe you and me should see more of each other. Check out a dance hall, cut a rug."

Darcy's face flushes over and she sits up, laughing in earnest now. "Um," she says. Bucky continues to lean comically close as if trying to woo her.

"Aww, don't be like that. I could show you a real good time. I promise I'll be a gentleman."

"I think-" Darcy's barely keeping it together. "I've heard you already have someone, Barnes."

Bucky looks side-to-side in fake nervousness, as if caught. "Nahhh."

Steve snorts.

"Nobody  _steady_ , anyway," Bucky amends.

" _Hey!_ "

Steve can't be upset, not really - the joke is making Darcy brighten up, and she's leaning in now, pretending to be interested. Sam stage-whispers to Darcy as if the others can't hear: "Don't believe him. He's a heartbreaker. I've heard the stories."

"Everyone who's watched The History Channel knows the stories," Steve murmurs under his breath, amused by the way Bucky genuinely blinks at that comment, momentarily pulled out of character.

"Mr. Barnes, I refuse to be another of your conquests." Darcy sounds more like a southern belle than a Brooklyn girl.

"He's got a tattoo, you know," Steve stage-whispers, joining in. "He's a hooligan."

Darcy mock-gasps, and Bucky rallies back, stretching an arm along the back of the couch that conveniently comes to rest on her far shoulder. "Don't listen to them, doll. They're just jealous 'cause I found you first."

As Darcy giggles and leans back into him, Sam looks over to Steve and gives him an apologetic look. "You two had a good run," he says grimly, and Steve snickers.

**

" _Damn_ , you're handsy tonight." Bucky laughs and squirms, but not necessarily out of Steve's grip.

"Apparently I have to make more of an impression on you," Steve says mock-seriously, sliding one hand down to grope Bucky's ass. Bucky makes a surprised appreciative sound. "'Nobody steady', indeed."

Bucky laughs again and presses in tighter. "You should teach me a lesson for that," he says smoothly, but loses a bit of steam when he catches the unsure expression that must be on Steve's face. Bucky quickly changes course, kissing his way up Steve's neck to his earlobe.

Steve holds still, trying to think fast. "A lesson," he echoes, buying some time. He tries to remember what he was doing with his hands, but it's lost now, and so he settles for curling his fingers around the hem of Bucky's shirt like he's  _considering_  taking it off.

"Well." Clearly backpedaling, Bucky gets out of the shirt, making a show of it. "You could also just. Have your way with me."

Steve should probably say he has no idea how to give Bucky what he's asking for, but he also knows that nothing could be  _less_  like what Bucky wanted than Steve admitting he doesn't know how to ... take control. Steve tests the waters, tugging Bucky by a belt loop until he's flush against him, and when Bucky makes a small sound and moves them both back until Steve's crowding him against the wall, Steve knows he's serious. This is the most 'penned-in' Bucky's allowed himself to be. Steve holds him by the hip and the jaw, kissing him hard, gauging the reactions. When he digs his fingers in a little, draws Bucky's lower lip out between careful teeth, Bucky squirms and shifts, moving against Steve but not pushing. His breathing is getting faster, nails digging into Steve's shoulders.

"Yes?" Steve murmurs, to make sure. He pulls back enough to look Bucky in the eye.

" _Please_."

Maybe he can do this. Or something close, anyway - take the lead more, as long as he doesn't lose focus on Bucky's comfort levels. It's not like there aren't things he  _wants_  to do.

"Take your clothes off," Steve says quietly, "and get on the bed."

Bucky's mouth falls open a little, and Steve backs off, giving him room to do it or to... to ignore him, honestly, because if Bucky just wanted to keep kissing and pretend he didn't hear, Steve certainly wouldn't 'punish' him for it. He has no idea what's too far and he's certainly not going to risk it right now.

He doesn't have to worry about it, though, because Bucky strips out of his jeans and underwear, crawling onto the bed and then laying down on his back. His erection is thickening, and Steve can hear his breathing getting heavier, more irregular.

Bucky looks nervous. Beautiful.

"Good." Steve walks over to the nightstand, wills his hands to be steady, and pulls out the bottle of lubricant. Bucky makes a soft groaning sound, hands sliding up until they're overlaid on the pillows, and Steve has to stare for a moment, just a moment, because he looks  _incredible_ like this. Steve breathes. Goes to the foot of the bed, tapping at Bucky's ankle to encourage him to spread his legs so he can settle between them.

Bucky licks his kiss-bruised lips and looks down at him. "What - what're you gonna..."

"You said you wanted a lesson?"

Bucky nods wordlessly, clearly hoping.

Steve gives him a shrug, feigning nonchalance as he pops the bottle open. "I guess I'll teach you that you're mine."

Steve opens him up slowly, having a good idea now of how much time Bucky needs and making sure to draw it out much longer than that. It works - Bucky is whining for more from him soon enough, demanding a second finger, then a third, then for Steve to move faster. When Steve ignores his demands and continues at his own pace, Bucky only gets harder, leaks against his stomach, shifts fruitlessly against the bed in an effort to bear down more on his fingers. He could actually move, or straddle Steve and work himself onto his hand, stroke himself; he's done all of it before, but he doesn't, because he wants... he wants Steve to be in charge, to be orchestrating this, so Steve takes the role. When Bucky's close he crawls up so he can tongue his ear, fingers thrusting in sharper with every stroke.

"If you're good," Steve whispers, "next time I'll give you my cock."

Bucky comes.


	16. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Steve starts researching more. Bucky trains, and socializes on his own now, and Steve takes these opportunities to look through the books, to watch whatever he can find. Some of it is beyond repulsive to him; it's  _demeaning_ , he - he can't do those things. He won't. Bucky doesn't  _deserve_  them.

Some of it, though.

**

"...but after her dad died she didn't want to even  _look_  at a lab, so she tried going into policy. She ended up in a SHIELD think tank that-"

"Wait." Bucky holds up a hand to 'pause' Sam. "A  _what_  tank?"

"Not a physical tank." Steve supplies. "It's a group of specialists who plan or predict things."

"Oh." Bucky makes a slightly embarrassed face, adjusting the pillow on Steve's lap.

"I thought the same thing when I first heard it." Steve waves Sam on. "Go on. Ms. van Dyne: biochemist, philanthropist, SHIELD think tank genius."

Sam smirks. "They were put together to come up with weird ideas to solve future problems. Guess what she helped name and outline?"

Steve shares an 'I-have-no-idea' look with Bucky. "Please don't say... Project Insight?"

" _No_ , dude!" Sam makes an insulted face. "The  _Avengers_  Initiative."

Bucky laughs. "Uh-huh."

"I'm dead serious! She was kicking herself after she figured out who you were, Steve. She studied your file for weeks."

"Can't really blame her, can you?" Bucky squirms on the couch to get a good look at Steve's face. "He's got a really generic kinda look to him."

Steve arches an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait. "So," he says, pointedly moving on and only focusing his attention on Sam. "Are you going to ask her out?"

"I think so. We text a lot... God, man, she's  _smart_. I'm not that smart." Sam laughs. "She likes Cartoon Network, though, so we're bonding on that. I've been boning up on my Adventure Time like you wouldn't believe."

"You  _really_  like her," Bucky informs him.

"You think I don't know that?"

"You should see your face when you talk about her."

"Yeah, well, her last boyfriend was awful to her, so I'm, like... trying not to be pushy. He sounds like he was really controlling." Sam makes a face.

Steve looks down at Bucky. The idea of a double-date is tempting on the surface, something lighthearted, but Bucky made a point of fleeing before Janet had a chance to recognize him, and... Steve's inner panic at being anything but straight in front of new people isn't exactly gone. "Well, you're a great guy, Sam. If she's half as smart as you insist she is, I'm sure she's noticed."

**

_Steve Rogers: How's it going?_

_UNLISTED: Stark's talking about making an Avengers plane._

_Steve Rogers: Let me guess. First class wasn't enough for him?_

_UNLISTED: Bingo. If he's not allowed to fly somewhere in a Stark jet, he wants an Avengers jet._

_UNLISTED: How are things stateside?_

_Steve Rogers: Okay, I think._

**

Steve gets a text in the middle of a jog with Peter. When they finally take a break next to a fountain and Steve checks his phone, it's from Bucky - 'EXPLAIN' in big letters, followed by a media attachment. This isn't unusual. He opens the picture, stares at it a moment, then wordlessly hands his phone over to Peter.

Peter squints at it. "Tiiiny handmade Cheetos bag." A beat. "...felted."

"Is this a future thing?" Steve asks.

Peter considers this. "...Darcy thing."

**

"I found it on the dining table. About ten seconds after I texted you, she came running in like she'd lost something, saw it, grabbed it, ran away again."

"Peter assured me this is not some common future thing."

"What would it be  _for_? _"_

Steve reflects upon this. "I... can't think of a functional use, but she also made the little bird for Sam, so maybe it's more of a." Steve gestures something that's supposed to mean 'non-functional'. Bucky shrugs.

**

They find some stuff on the Smithsonian Channel that the Hulk really likes, saving the last few Planet Earth episodes for a Really Bad Day when the soothing British narrator will be especially needed.

" **Funny Lady hungry?** " Hulk nudges the sriracha peas closer to her, and she looks up at him, grinning.

" _Always_ ," she enthuses, and grabs up the can to eat a handful. Bucky nudges Steve in the side and raises his eyebrows. Steve thinks about it, and Bucky's right - when has Hulk ever offered stuff to someone?

Bucky pulls his phone out.

_Bucky Barnes: Do we leave them alone?_

_Steve Rogers: What?_

_Bucky Barnes: Like a double date that's going really well for the two on the blind date. Do we pretend we're tired and say goodnight?_

_Steve Rogers: WHAT?_

_Bucky Barnes: Not like they're gonna make time or something! Just so they can watch tv together. Without us babysitting_

_Steve Rogers: Babysitting him is our job. We're the ones that can get flung around if he gets out of control._

_Bucky Barnes: He practically offered her a berry and did a weird dance with his wings_

_Steve Rogers: I'm not disagreeing._

Bucky sighs and puts his phone away. Hulk makes an interested grunt as a baby tiger pounces on its sibling, wrestling it to the ground and chomping on its fur.

" **Not real fight.** "

"Naw, they're just playing." Darcy grins. "Kids are like that."

The Hulk's deep chuckle rumbles through the floor. " **Cubs cute.** "

 **

"Those are from Tony, right?"

"Hmm?" Bucky looks over from the closet, then back at the button-up shirts. "Yeah. They're... uh. Armani?"

Steve smiles to himself and continues getting dressed. "You always looked good dressed up."

Bucky makes an amused noise. "C'mon, Rogers. Pancakes."

"Yeah, yeah. Let an old man get his shoes on."

**

"Hold still," Steve murmurs, testing.

Bucky stops in place. Steve looks at Bucky's face, not hiding the fact that he's checking, making sure; Bucky looks back at him with an answering glance of 'I'm nervous' and 'yes, please, please'.

Steve kisses him a while longer, lips brushing over his pliant mouth, before picking him up and carrying him over to the bed. He seats Bucky on the edge, nudging his legs apart so he can stand in close, tilt Bucky's head up and kiss him more. When he threads his fingers through Bucky's hair, Bucky makes a quiet desperate noise and Steve thinks back to the books. There was a suggestion of ordering your partner to stay quiet as well as motionless, but to be honest, Steve can't think of anything he'd like less.

Steve tugs a little and Bucky whines.

"You like that?"

Bucky huffs against his mouth and shifts a little, not enough to break the rule but enough to display his impatience.

Steve pulls away, licking his lips. "I won't keep doing this if you don't answer."

Bucky's eyes widen, and as always, the tension is overlaid with a heavy amount of lust. Steve's hand automatically loosens in his hair, as if to make sure Bucky could make an easy escape if he wanted to.

"I," Bucky manages, "I really like it."

Steve smiles, bending down a little to kiss some more. "If I pin you down," he says slowly, "will you be okay?"

Bucky nods quickly. "Everything feels like sex now," he says. Then, stumbling, "I mean. When you touch me like that, I don't - my body, my brain doesn't. Misinterpret."

"Good." Steve strokes his hair, watching his eyes flutter shut. "If that changes, you have to tell me."

"Okay."

"You  _have_  to."

Bucky nods again. Steve spends some time petting him, watching his shoulders droop down, his mouth go slightly slack. Finally, when it feels right, Steve nudges gently at both shoulders, watches Bucky drop obediently back onto the mattress. His hands slide up over his head and cross at the wrists in anticipation. Steve shuts his eyes a moment, takes a deep breath, readjusts himself, and then crawls on top, left hand putting some of his weight on Bucky's wrists while the other tugs his shirt up inch by inch.

"Fffff." Bucky's hips roll up, and his arms shift.

"Are we alright?"

"Yeah, we're." Bucky's breath comes in a shudder, and he tests the grip a couple more times before going limp. "We're really good."

"Okay." Steve hovers above him, only touching him to hold him down and trail little patterns over his abdomen. It rises and falls with his breaths. Steve wants to shift down, to press his mouth to the warm skin there, but he can only stretch so far before he has to let go with his left hand. "Tilt your chin up," he says instead.

Bucky complies. Steve makes an approving sound, nuzzling before biting gently, starting to leave a mark, and he listens to the breathing getting harsher. Steve groans in sympathy, rolling his hips down to give Bucky just a little relief. The feeling of denim against skin must be good, because Bucky wraps his legs around Steve's hips, trapping him there, egging him on to do it again. It's good, but-

Steve sits up sharply, looking down at Bucky with a stern expression. "What happened to not moving?"

Bucky blinks. "Shit. Um. Um. Sorry. It was really-" His legs untangle and straighten back to where they were. Bucky shoots Steve a look of apology whose lip-bite is  _definitely_  intentional; he's trying to see if he can get away with it. Steve thinks fast.

"Are you going to be good from now on?" He asks, bending back down til their noses are brushing together.

Bucky's eyes dilate further. "Yes," he breathes.

Steve nods and nuzzles in close, starting a new lovebite just above the first. When Bucky starts to pant, Steve rolls his hips a little, just enough that his jeans tease against Bucky's erection. The response is immediate: a long, breathy whine as Bucky's whole body tenses underneath him.

"You're doing really well," Steve murmurs against his skin, and presses a few kisses along the column of his throat. Bucky squirms contentedly at the praise, so Steve continues: "You're being so good."

"Yeah?" He sounds faraway, somehow, panting but distant.

"Mm-hmm." Steve presses his hips in tightly, rocking back and forth to let Bucky get some relief against them. There's too much fabric between them for Steve to feel him in any detail, but his own erection is getting more insistent regardless. "You gonna keep holding still if I get up?"

"Please don't get up." It's a beg. Steve feels his breath catch in his throat.

"Only for a second."

"O-okay."

Steve lets go of Bucky's wrists, getting to his feet as gracefully as possible so he can get his jeans and boxers off. Bucky's watching him like he's the most delicious food he's ever seen. He knows he's blushing down to his sternum, but he ignores it, grabbing the bottle of lube from the table, tossing it onto the sheets, and crawling back on top and staying just out of Bucky's reach. His fingers close back around Bucky's wrists.

"Fuck," Bucky murmurs, looking between their bodies at the maddeningly small amount of space that's still between them. "C'mon, Steve."

Steve smirks, crouching just enough to kiss him, tongue pushing insistently into Bucky's mouth. Bucky makes an impatient sound and sucks on it; Steve's hips stutter forward, brushing his erection against Bucky's. They both gasp.

"So that's how it is?" Steve pants, pulling away and grinning.

"Doesn't count if I make  _you_  move."

"Already bending rules. Should've seen this coming." Steve leaves a few soft bites up Bucky's jawline, reaching blindly with his free hand to find the bottle. There. He uncaps it with one hand, squeezing some into his fingers and reclosing it in a fluid motion. (Bucky doesn't notice, which means Steve doesn't have to explain that he's been getting better at doing that when Bucky isn't around.) "Spread."

Bucky bites his lip and does, drawing his legs up tightly and letting out a hot breath of air against Steve's hair when his first two fingers start to press in.

"S'so fucking good," Bucky mumbles, head falling back against the bed. "Fuck. Steve. Don't go slow. Please don't go slow."

Steve doesn't respond, just pushes in a little deeper, overwhelmed by the tight warmth. Tonight, he thinks. He wants to do it tonight. His balls tighten a little at the thought, and he starts pumping in and out,  _prepping_  Bucky, tilting his head down and pressing his lips against Bucky's collarbone to hide his face. Now that he knows Bucky wants it, that he can probably do this without hurting him, it's all he can think about. Bucky's bearing down on him a little, rocking minutely into the thrusts and still talking, still asking for it to be faster, for another finger, and Steve collects himself as best he can. Presses in a third. Takes a deep breath.

"Feeling about ready for me?"

He manages to stay it in a low voice, to sound like he's in control. In reality he's barely hanging on, overheated like he's been running for days and trying not to let himself pant. He can feel himself dripping precome on the sheets.

Bucky doesn't say anything for a minute, doesn't breathe; then it comes out in a wave, shifting and breathing hard and asking, "Please," over and over again, "please, Steve, please,"

"Please what?" Emboldened.

" _Please_  give it to me."

Steve curls his fingers, looking up to watch Bucky's expression, thrusts them in as deep as he can a few times. He can tell it's got an edge of pain to it, but it's way more good than bad, and Steve can't pretend he's made of stone for much longer. "Yeah," he says finally, and sits up, pulling his hand back. "Get a pillow under your hips. I'll. I'll be right back."

He hears Bucky mutter a curse under his breath. Steve staggers to his feet, fishing through the drawer for a condom, ripping it open and rolling it on as fast as he can. Bucky's already laying back down, hips lifted, and before Steve can reach for the lube Bucky's sitting up and reaching for him to come back down, back on top of him. "Hold on, I need to-"

"Yeah, but quit - quit being so far away."

Steve laughs and kisses his cheek, crawling back onto the mattress and trying not to panic. The condom masks a lot of the feeling of the lube, and he strokes himself for a minute, trying to warm up the slick a little before it gets anywhere near Bucky. Bucky clearly thinks he's being teased, and whines, putting his wrists back above his head in a gesture of 'I'll behave, please do it'. Steve moves forward a few inches and lines himself up.

"If I hurt you-"

"You just had  _three fingers_  in me."

"Yeah, and we both know I'm... I'm a lot bigger than three."

Bucky doesn't look nervous, though, just impatient, so Steve holds his breath and pushes in, eyes widening immediately at the feel of the tight ring of muscle around his cock.

 _It's not going to fit_ , he thinks, somewhat irrationally, and realizes in waves that Bucky is biting his lip and making a soft keening sound, that Bucky's tipped his head back as far as it will go, and God, maybe, if he takes it slow, if he's very slow, and he listens, and-

"Yes, it hurts, and  _yes_ , keep going." Bucky's voice is strained.

Steve nods, although there's no way Bucky could see, and pushes in another inch. Another. Bucky's body isn't relaxing, not yet, and it's overwhelming, almost too much. Steve grips Bucky's thighs and pulls him a little closer, finally pressing all the way in, pushing home. He looks down at Bucky, whose forehead has a thin sheen of sweat now, and smiles weakly.

"Well, I'm. I'm glad I decided to put the rubber on."

"Huh?" Bucky pants. "Why?"

"Otherwise I'd have come by now."

Bucky laughs breathlessly, and Steve feels him relax, just a bit. Steve smiles wider, stroking Bucky's thighs and taking a few long, deep breaths.

"You stopping for... for me or for you?" Bucky asks finally.

"Can I say both?"

" _I_  want you to start moving."

"I think I want to start moving t-... Jesus." Steve's first thrust in sends shocks up his spine, fills him with sensation, and he doesn't realize when his fingers dig deeply into skin. "Fuck. Okay." He starts a slow rhythm, only pulling out a couple inches before pressing back in. There's a line of pain between Bucky's eyebrows as he moves, and he's breathing shallow and open-mouthed, but when Steve angles his hips right something changes, and Bucky grits his teeth like he needs more of it. Steve rocks into him slowly, building up just a little speed, finding the pace where Bucky's eyes open and darken and lock onto him.

"Touch me," Bucky begs.

Steve does. His hand is shaking, but it's still slick with lube and Bucky moans as soon as it starts to stroke him. "Fuck," he almost shouts, "fuck. Harder. No, your - your dick, gimme -  _fuck_. Yes." Bucky keens again and arches, fingers curling into fists above his head.

Steve tries fucking him a little deeper, pulling out further before pushing back in, but the line between Bucky's brows doesn't come back, his body doesn't tighten in distaste, so it must be right. Steve wets his lips and bites down, forcing himself to hold on, not to give in yet, because he can tell Bucky's already close. When Steve drags his thumb along the underside of Bucky's cock, his hips arch up and his body clenches down on him. Steve moans.

"Gonna come," Bucky confesses, lips bruised red from teeth and still shifting on the pillow, arching, trying to find just the right spot. He's moved his legs a little too, but Steve doesn't care, is dead set on fucking Bucky into an orgasm if it's the last thing he does. Steve grunts and grips Bucky's hips, making him meet the thrusts, just gently, until Bucky shouts and twists and so Steve does it harder, again, stroking him rougher until Bucky's spilling onto his hand and his  _body_ , God, his body is clenching around him like it wants to keep him inside forever, the delicious hot pressure shooting through Steve like a jolt of electricity and making him half-collapse on Bucky, thrusting erratically and deeper and groaning until he finally finds his own release. It lasts so much longer than he thought it could, aftershocks running through him in waves, and when he's back to himself enough to notice, Bucky's got his legs curled possessively around his hips. Keeping him in place.


	17. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> This follows [chapter 30 of Circling Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1467004/chapters/3544784).
> 
> Dialogue in brackets is in Russian.

It's raining that night, so Bucky sits alone in his room for a while, staring out the window. After an hour he decides to see if Natasha's awake.

He taps on her door, softly enough that it shouldn't wake her if she's already asleep. He waits a few moments, staring at his feet, before the door opens.

"<Come in.>"

"<Thanks.>"

Natasha is wearing pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt with a band Bucky hasn't heard of on the front. Her hair is tied back. She walks to her bed, not looking back, and lays down, reaching for the second pillow and tossing it onto the floor. Bucky shuts the door behind him and lays down with it.

"<Still can't sleep alone?>"

"<No.>"

"<Did you talk to Rachel?>"

"<Yes.>" Bucky shifts, jamming his hand under the pillow to raise it up a little. When he looks up, Natasha is perched on the edge of her mattress, looking over him with sleepy calmness. It's... soothing. To know she's there. "<I wrote the letter you told me to do.>"

Natasha nods. "<Did you give it to Tony?>"

"<I left it in his lab where he'd find it.>"

"<That's  _sort_  of like giving it to him.>"

He closes his eyes. "<I asked Jarvis to make sure it didn't get lost or anything.>"

"<Okay, okay.>" Bucky feels delicate fingers reach down and brush through his hair, tousling it slowly. "<You did good.>"

A little bit of relief washes through him. He shuts his eyes tighter, moving minutely closer to the bed without dislodging the fingers.

"<It seems like Sam surprised you today,>" she says after a while.

Bucky grunts. "<I've never heard of something like that before. Being a ... I don't know the word in Russian. But. Not ever wanting sex.>"

Natasha chuckles. "<More surprising than loving men and women?>"

"<We had  _that_  in the 1940s.>" Bucky opens his eyes so he can look up at her, following the line of her outstretched arm to her face, giving her a pointed look.

"<Yes, I suppose there was at least one of you.>" She smirks.

"Mmm." He shuts his eyes again. "<But it's not because he's sick?>"

"<No, nothing like that. It's just the way he is.>"

"<So he's happy without it.>"

"<Yes.>"

"<Good.>" That's the important thing.

Bucky feels Natasha's hand leave him, but after a moment there's a 'thump' on his hip that startles him - a folded quilt. He looks at it, then at her, then obediently unfolds it and starts to arrange it to cover him from feet to waist. He lays back down, quietly hoping she'll pet him some more.

"<You could go talk to him tomorrow morning,>" she says.

"<It's okay to ask about it?>"

"<It's okay to ask  _Sam_  about it. It'd be rude if you asked a stranger or something.>"

"<Okay.>" He misses the feel of her fingernails against his scalp. He thinks about what Rachel told him to do, how she said it was important. "<Could you, um.>"

"Hmm?" Natasha is shifting on the bed, making the blankets whisper as they move against each other, but Bucky keeps his eyes closed, holds still, unsure of how to word the request now. He's feeling the weird panic and the ' _don't-do-it-don't-do-it-don't-do-it_ ' voice is insistent in the back of his mind. Bucky holds back a frustrated growl, and suddenly there are gentle touches on his forehead, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes, tucking strands behind his ear. He relaxes gratefully.

"<Th-thanks.>"

"Shh." Natasha's hand drifts to the nape of his neck, tugging him a little closer to the bed so she can reach more of him. "<Don't worry about it.>"

He gives himself a few moments, breathing evenly and feeling the touches. They ground him. They're completely different from the memories aching in his head.

Nothing then was ever like this. The quiet was never good. The touches were never kind.

"Bucky."

"<Yes?>"

"<Have you thought more about telling him?>"

"<No.>" He waits for an admonishment, but it doesn't come.

"<Want to sleep here again?>"

He nods. "<Yes. Please.>"


	18. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

"Let's do it again."

Steve laughs. "What,  _now?_ "

"What, like you can't get it up again?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, you didn't like it?"

"Shut up, you mook."

"I get it. You didn't like it. You didn't like fucking me." Bucky flops back on the bed with a dramatic moan, overwhelmed in his fake sadness. "I'm not a good enough piece for Steven Rogers."

"You're - oh my God. Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Get your hand off me. We're not doing it again tonight, you need a break."

"I feel fine."

"Try sitting up."

"... _Jesus_ fucking Christ. "

**

_Sam Wilson: d8 d8 d8 d8 d8 d8 d8 d8_

_Steve Rogers: ?_

_Steve Rogers: Date! Do you mean date?_

_Sam Wilson: YYYYYYY_

**

Sam's doctors clear him to leave the Tower the day before he promised to go out with Janet, which he's endlessly grateful for. Steve takes them out for some much-needed fresh air and food truck lunch.

"I'm gonna tail you, you know, just in case anything happens." Peter gives Sam an overly-cheerful thumbs up from the other side of the bench.

Sam looks up from his pizza. "Dude,  _do not_."

"No, no, it'll be awesome. Where are you two going? Outdoor cafe? Then I can swing along up top and-"

" _Do not gear up and tail me_. Bucky, threaten him with something."

Bucky, clearly distracted, does not tear his eyes away from the edge of the park. "Parker. Don't do the thing."

"What he said," Sam says, then double-takes to look at what Bucky's staring at. "What's so interesting in that tree?"

Bucky frowns. "Nothing. I think... I think I'm just being. Odd." He looks down at his soda. "Steve, gimme another of those potstickers?"

"You're lucky we're a couple." Steve uses his chopsticks to tip one onto Bucky's plate. He leans back and peers at the tree, but all he sees is a trapped kite and some birds. Nothing exceptional.

**

"Feeling okay?"

Bucky looks over from the tv, eyes finally focused and in the 'now'. "What?"

"You zone out sometimes, but that was... longer. Than usual." Steve points to the screen. "We don't have to watch this if you don't want."

"Oh. No, it's fine." Bucky looks at the movie and it occurs to Steve that Bucky had to actually look to check what they were watching in the first place. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." Steve punches Bucky's shoulder affectionately and uses it as an excuse to stretch his arms across the length of the couch. His forearm brushes against the warmth of Bucky's neck, one little point of connection.

**

Bucky's alarm goes off in the middle of a nap.

"What's that for?" Steve holds Bucky's hip as he squirms to reach out for his phone and turn it off, but Bucky doesn't come back to the middle of the bed - he pulls away instead, running his hands through his hair and looking around for his jeans.

"Teleconf'rence," he mumbles tiredly. He finds the jeans, starts tugging them on.

"Oh." Steve drops back into the bed and pulls the sheets back up. It's Wednesday. Bucky had a teleconference yesterday. This is... two in as many days? Did something happen? "Dinner tonight?"

"Yeah. Let's order something."

"Okay." Steve pushes his face resolutely into the pillow. When he wakes up, he thinks, he'll make sure he's here when Bucky comes back. He'll leave out Bucky's favorite oversized hoodie for him to put on, and he'll stroke Bucky's hair while he reads. He can do that at least. (Then, Thai.)

**

Steve has breakfast with Sam the next morning.

"Okay," Sam says, around a mouthful of pancakes: "I gotta ask you to come with me and Bruce."

Steve blinks, looking over the dining table to Sam's expectant face. "To... what?"

"My family reunion this weekend, man! The kids are texting me and  _begging_. The kids who don't have cell phones? Are stealing their  _parents'_  cell phones and begging."

"I'd be happy to," Steve says, tilting his head. "Bruce, though?" He and Sam get along fine, but Steve doesn't know that they're particularly close, and Bruce tends to avoid crowds of strangers at all costs. It's hardly a secret.

"He went to school with my cousin, and now that Banner's not being hunted down, they can finally, you know. Hang out."

Steve nods. God, Banner. Looking at the man, it's sometimes difficult to remember how many years he spent running across the globe trying to prevent himself from being destroyed. Or worse, turned into a lab rat. "It's tomorrow, right?"

"Yup." Sam grins. "I already talked it over with Banner - we'll borrow one of Tony's cars, leave at five, and if Banner needs to go home early, he'll cab back."

"Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just your pretty face, man." When Steve laughs, Sam smiles wider. "Speaking of which, where's your Bucky-bae?"

" _Please_  stop calling him that." Steve takes a bite of bagel, wiping the cream cheese from the corner of his mouth. "Spending the morning in bed, I think."

"Yeah?"

"I think he misses Natasha." Steve sighs. "You know that 'you can't be every single thing for one person' speech you've given me in the past?"

Sam nods. "Struggling with that one?"

"Yep." Steve tugs the jug of juice closer, giving himself a moment to mentally close the topic. "So where're you taking Janet tonight?"

"To _day_ ," Sam corrects. "Lunch date. Super chill."

"Okay. Today."

"A cute little bistro place. That we have  _never taken Peter to_. It's a block away from one of the little Central Park ponds. You know, the water, some ducks." Sam frowns suddenly. "Is that too romantic for a first date if you're trying to go slow? Should we just do bistro and skip the pond?"

"Play it by ear. I don't know. Every first date I've ever had with a dame went terribly."

Sam chuckles. "You should bring him something."

"Hmm?"

Sam points to the bowls in the center of the table. "Get his blood sugar up. Even super soldiers can get moody if they haven't eaten for long enough. Don't forget, I've seen you skip lunch once."

"And I'm still sorry for snapping at you like I did when - ooh." Steve spots a plate of muffins. At least one is bound to be blueberry.

**

"Hi."

"Hi. Wanna come out of there long enough for a snack?"

The blankets rustle. "... yeah." Bucky's head pokes out, eyes widening a little as he sees the small plate, and he actually  _smiles_  - Steve feels his chest go tight as Bucky sits upright and pushes the blankets off, taking the plate. He eats in silence for a while, and when Steve sits next to him and strokes his hair, he leans into it.

"Thanks," Bucky says, after he finishes. "And. Sorry."

"For what?"

"For. Not being any fun recently, I guess."

"You don't have to apologize. And, hey. Do you want to..."

"Hm?"

"You can tell me, you know. What's going on."

"Nothing's happening."

"I know, but what you're  _feeling_ , Buck. Or remembering, or. You know I'm here for you."

He grins. "Of course you are, dummy."

**

Steve checks the clock, guesses it's about a quarter of an hour before Sam's date, and sends him a picture of a cat poster which clearly states HANG IN THERE. He follows it up with a picture of a smiley face sticker that says YOU CAN DO IT!

_Sam Wilson: ur the worst_

_Steve Rogers: :)_

**

"...and we can be sure now that the electroshocks didn't target his mamillary bodies. The medications, however, did."

"To make it harder for him to form new memories," Steve hazards, and the doctor makes an impressed noise.

"You've been reading up. What that means is that what we're now dealing with these areas here, where the long-term memories are stored? Yes? You know that one by now, certainly - the uptick in activity is ramping up again. This is medically good and... well, psychologically, I can't say, as it is safe to presume the activity means he's gaining access to previously inaccessible memories, but... likely the ones that were weakly developed in the first place."

"The ones he made when he was drugged." Steve waits, and the doctor nods. "So, the ones he made when HYDRA had him."

"Yes," the doctor says, and with the way he says it is like an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know [Jim Wilson](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Wilson_\(comics\)) is canonically Sam's nephew, not cousin, but timeline-wise that wouldn't work out, so I tweaked stuff. :B
> 
> Pls forgive.


	19. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> This chapter follows [Circling Back chapter 33.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1467004/chapters/3565997)

"I'm so glad you're here."

"Huh?" Bucky looks at Steve, whose eyes are kind of glassy, cheeks a little pink.  _He's drunker than me_ , Bucky thinks distantly.

"I dunno." Steve's smiling, pushing his shoulders back into the plushness of the couch as he looks over the rest of the room. Most of the group has gone to bed, but Tony and Darcy and Sam are still going strong. "I just. I never thought I'd ever see you again! And then."

Bucky looks down at his glass and decides he should put it down. He thinks about the picture in the sketchbook, the drawing, what it. What it meant. It's hard to concentrate on things that complex. The  _drawing_ was complex. (Is complex?)

Steve had drawn Bucky like he looked... nice. He'd drawn the jagged scars and his messy hair but it had all looked... nice.

"Buck."

"Hm?"

"I  _said_..." Steve trails off, as if he's already forgotten. His smile disappears into a confused frown.

Bucky grins and lets them fall into silence again. Across the room, Sam is slinging one of Darcy's arms across his shoulders, singing in a bad impression of an Irish accent.

"S'so important," Steve mumbles after a while.

"What's important?"

"That I don't  _fuck it up_ ," Steve murmurs. When Bucky hazily tilts over to look at Steve's face, it's... serious. Faraway, but intent, like he's trying to remember something vital. "You're here. And I. I have to."

Bucky thinks about the drawing, and about the way Steve is, has always been, and loses the thread when Sam comes over, stumbling a bit and landing half on Steve, half on the couch. Steve makes a surprised noise but lifts a hand to support Sam's back, like if he's there he might as well be comfortable.

"You two're gettin' a cab, right?" Sam asks.

Steve frowns. "What?"

"A  _cab._  You two are too drunk to drive, and so'm I, actually? Yeah, I really am. And, Bucky. Bucky what."

Bucky's laughing. "We all  _live_  here, Sam."

"Oh! Oh, yeah!" Sam straightens up and giggles to himself. "Cool. Um. G'night then." He wobbles out. Tony watches him with an amused expression, and Bucky tries to remember what he and Steve were talking about. Tony says something to Darcy, and they fist bump, and Tony gets up to get bottles of water from the fridge. Bucky thinks he's kind of tired too, but his knee is brushing against Steve's, and Steve is just so smiley right now, it's hard to want to leave him.

"Bucky," Steve says slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you happy?"

Bucky blinks. It's kind of a complex question, and even through the fog of the whiskey/drain cleaner substance he knows that, but. Steve's shoulders are relaxed and they're together and nothing's trying to kill anyone. So. "Yeah," he says finally.

"Good.  _That_  is. That is the important thing." Steve's eyes drift shut as he sinks ever deeper into the couch.

Bucky looks back to Tony and Darcy, but they're gone. He thinks about Steve, and the drawing, and what Rachel's said before. To decades ago, when Steve was ill and sleep-deprived and Bucky wanted to take care of him when he needed it most, to be close, to plant the seed of idea in Steve's mind.

Bucky would never have  _tried_  anything while Steve was weak and sick. It wouldn't have been right, it wouldn't have -

Bucky looks over at Steve. He's fallen asleep.


	20. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

_Tony Stark: It'll be a few extra days. Stuff and things. Will tell you when I know more._

**

Bucky is sleep-warm and happy when he wakes up, curling into Steve's touch and making soft contented sounds.

"Morning."

"Mmm." Bucky butts his head against Steve's hand, a silent demand to be touched more. Steve laughs and strokes down the length of Bucky's side, shoulder to thigh, as Bucky squirms and shifts himself to wakefulness. Finally, Steve slides his hand over Bucky's hip and holds him for a while before getting up to take the first shower.

When he gets back, Bucky's quieter, already tense as he passes by him in the doorway. Steve dries off, gets dressed, and checks his phone. Reads Tony's text.

Bucky must have gotten it as well. No wonder.

When Bucky's still quiet over breakfast, Steve broaches the subject:

"Because Natasha's not going to be around for a while?"

Bucky looks up, a few emotions crossing his face in quick succession: the look of being caught, and then distress, and then, forcibly, some calm. "Yeah," he says, and grins despite himself when Steve's bare foot stretches out under the dining table to brush against his.

Steve risks it. "At the meeting I had with your specialist, he said, um-"

"Yeah." Bucky stabs his fork a little harder than necessary into the pancakes, then takes a deep breath. "It's - I'll be fine. Quit worrying."

**

Tony's not in the country to mock him for his 'grandpa clothes', so Steve's dressed in what's most comfortable; slacks, belt, and a decent plaid shirt. Bruce is at the elevators already, hands in pockets and looking forcibly calm.

"Excited?" Steve asks. Bruce smiles.

"Tense," he admits, ever honest. "Sam has a big family."

"If they're anything like him, they should all be saints."

Bruce tilts his head, considering it. "I only know Jim, but... he's definitely a good guy."

"You met him at school, Sam said?"

Bruce nods. "Grad school, a year before he had to drop out." He sees Steve's curious expression. "Jim's had a lot of health problems. He's HIV positive."

"Oh." Steve nods. "Is... is that..."

"It's rough, but he stays on his meds and lives right." Bruce shrugs. "We've emailed back and forth, he's sent some pictures... he's as healthy as you could hope for."

Sam rounds the corner with a jacket in one hand and a set of car keys in the other. "Maserati," he singsongs, and slings an arm around Bruce's shoulders. "How're you two doing? Bruce, we feeling green at all?"

"We're decidedly pink today," Bruce assures him, and when Sam grins and slaps him on the back, he actually laughs.

**

"So how is, um, how's Bucky?"

Steve looks in the rearview mirror to look at Bruce. "He's, um."

"Ups and downs?" Bruce supplies.

"Yeah."

"I get that." Bruce's smile is a slant.

**

Harlem is different from what Steve remembers in innumerable ways, and the ways in which it hasn't changed are... hard to pin down, but definitely there. A lot of people are outside enjoying the nice weather. The car gets a lot of attention, and Sam mentions something about the glories of a sentient security system as he parks and leads them into the apartment building. The moment the car doors open, Steve can hear the sounds of a party happening on the roof. Music is playing and people are laughing.

"Sam, um, how big is this gathering again?" Bruce smoothes out his shirt, peering upward.

Sam shrugs. "Just my family."

Bruce follows them up the stairs. "A family isn't a set number of people, Sam, it's - it could be two people, it could be two thousand."

"Definitely closer to two," Sam says breezily.

"That means it's anything from two to nine hundred and-"

"You'll be  _fine_. They'll love you. In a lots-of-space-giving way."

**

Sam opens the door to the roof and half the party seems to stop what they're doing to let out a loud, happy cheer. There's about thirty people, but the roof is big and the view is really nice, spacious enough for The Other Guy not to feel too crowded. On one side is a drink and snack table, on the other a grill and smaller table full of toppings. Steve shares a grin with Bruce as Sam walks out, only making it a few steps before he's covered in kids hanging off of him on every available limb. A young girl with tiny, intricate braids manages an impressive jump to hang off of Sam's neck, wiggling and laughing happily.

"UNCAH SAM!" she shrieks.

"Mindy, oh my god, you're so big now!" Sam laughs and scoops her up with one arm, holding her on his chest and laughing. "Where's your mom?"

"Ida knowwwwwww," she sings, and does a couple excited hops once she's put down. "Hiiiiii Uncah Sam!"

"Excuse me," a voice says behind Steve and Bruce, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna steal Bruce from you."

Steve turns around. The man is thin, like someone on the far edge of wellness, but he's smiling warmly and already got a gentle hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce is grinning widely. "You must be Jim."

"I  _am_ , and I will freak out over Captain America knowing who I am  _later_ , but I miss this man and I need to steal him away to a quiet corner before he goes into a fetal position." Jim grins and gives Steve a goodbye-nod, steering Bruce over to two outdoor chairs parked wisely in the back corner near the door. Steve smiles.

"...and this is  _Steve,_ " Sam is saying, reaching out behind him for Steve to come forward; he does quickly, realizing that this is his moment of introduction. "Who we will just call  _Steve_ , and be very nice to, and not overwhelm with our fanboy or fangirl tendencies." He shoots a meaningful look at a gaggle of preteen kids off near the snack table, who look away guiltily.

"I don't care what we call him, he's the one who saved your ass in DC." One older woman pushes her way forward and stretches her arms out in a silent bid for a hug. Steve bends down a little and accepts the embrace, cheeks pink. "I'm his Aunt Sasha. Hello, young man."

"I feel I should mention he also saved me several times," Steve admits, once he's finally released. "I'm, um. I'm really grateful that he stepped up to help me."

"Well, anyone Sam likes is probably worth helping," another man says, and gestures him over to the grill. "C'mon over here and pick a hot dog."

**

Later, when sun is setting and the three of them pile back into the car, Sam snatches Steve's wrist and examines the small sparkly butterfly on his wrist. "Danni?" he guesses, smirking.

"She was very surprised I'd never heard of temporary tattoos," Steve says in a mock-serious tone, and grins when he hears Bruce's chuckle.

"And wa- who gave you their goddamn phone number!?" Sam turns Steve's forearm, scowling indignantly at the Sharpie scrawl there. "I  _told_  them, damnit..."

"That was Jim, actually." Steve looks into the backseat. "He told me to call him if, and I quote, 'That dumbass doesn't finally make a move on this physicist chick I'm hearing about'."

Bruce makes a valiant effort not to blush or cringe, and fails on both counts. Sam laughs and starts up the car. "It's a brave man that makes threats against the Hulk."

"He  _meant_  it, too." Steve lifts both eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I can't guarantee you protection against that guy if you upset him."

Bruce's face is pressed into both his palms. "Noted," he says, muffled.


	21. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

It's the second night Bucky's slipped out of bed in the middle of the night. Steve rolls over and reaches out, finding nothing but rumpled sheets, and sits up. This was maddening enough the first time.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where is Bucky?"

"He in on the premises, sir."

An oddly vague answer. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Sergeant Barnes has a few locations he visits when by himself, sir. He is at one of them presently."

Steve stares at the wall a moment, trying to figure out when Jarvis started keeping secrets for people. He's not happy with having to play twenty questions, but there's no way in hell he's going to force an answer out of Jarvis and damage Bucky's confidence in the AI, nor in Bucky's confidence in trusting Steve to give him space when he wants it. Steve takes a deep breath.

"He's okay?"

"Yes, sir. He is relaxing."

Okay. Fine.

**

Family dinner is smaller with everyone gone, but Steve more or less insists on it. Pepper and Bruce go to some organic farmer's market thing and pick out the supplies for Sam's grilled corn and kabobs, along with some pomegranates. Bruce sits at the dining table and shows Pepper how to break the fruit apart in a bowl of water, separating the seeds from the rest. Bucky watches with interest and blushes a little when Pepper sneaks him a few seeds in a small finger bowl.

(Darcy manages a potato salad, which Bruce takes several helpings of.)

"Okay, real talk?" Peter puts his fork down after a few minutes of silent eating. "I want a show of hands. Who else has caught themselves talking to Jarvis when they're not even in the Tower?"

Several hands raise amid embarrassed giggles. "That's what I thought," Peter says, and lets out a deep breath. "Okay. I feel less crazy now."

" _Now_  you have to tell us what happened," Pepper says, nudging him gently. He rolls his eyes but he's grinning.

"Aunt May reminded me I'd started some laundry earlier and I was like, 'Jarvis, is the washer done?'"

Sam bursts into laughter.

"No, no, it gets better - Aunt May's staring at me. 'Peter... is someone else in the house?'"

"At least when I do it, Darcy knows what I'm talking about," Jane says.

"Well." Peter shrugs helplessly. "I explained it was the AI at my internship, but now she thinks I work at a building that personifies The Jetsons."

"She's kinda right," Sam admits.

"I saw your hand go up too," Bucky says, smirking at Sam. "C'mon, spill."

"Wait, you don't  _have_  another house or apartment," Darcy says.

"Nope." Sam ducks his head and laughs. "On my date with Janet, I-"

"Oh  _no!_ "

"Oh  _yes_. Goddamn Maroon 5 starts playing in the cafe, and I'm like, naw."

Bucky laughs. "'Jarvis, skip!'"

"Exactly! 'Jarvis, skip.' Nothing happens. Still hips like Jagger, I'm thinking, no. Dude. 'Jarvis, man, please.' I look over at Janet to share a look with her, you know, 'What's up with Jarvis?' and she's giggling all cute,"

"You say everything she does is cute."

"That's because it is."

"How'd that go, anyway?" Bucky looks around the table. "Is that still okay to ask in the future?"

Sam laughs. "It was good! Um. She's intimidatingly smart. Oh! Oh. Ducks for days. It was so weird."

"Ducks for..." Bucky looks over at Steve.

"A lot of ducks," Steve translates around a mouthful of potato salad.

"Ducks in a cafe?" Darcy sits up straighter, eyes widening. "Like those cat cafes in Japan?"

"No," Sam says, and Darcy looks more let down than Steve could have guessed she could be by that. "We went to the park afterward, there was a little pond."

"Oh my god, that's adorable." Jane grins.

"Yeah! And so we don't bring anything to feed them, because I guess you're not supposed to, but one comes over and kinda hangs out near us, quacking and waddling in little circles, it was so cute! And then her duck-friend comes over, a guy duck, and within like five minutes we are in the middle of a duck party, it was so weird."

Bucky's eyebrow rises. "And there wasn't... food, or...?"

"No!" Sam laughs. "Nobody was giving them anything. Some kids ran over to see them and they kinda ran away for a minute, but they were  _determined_  to hang out with us."

"That's so weird," Jane says.

**

After dinner, Bruce opts to clean up, making sure to tell everyone how disappointed he is to see leftover pomegranate seeds.

"You of all people should know they aren't a 'miracle food'," Sam says, doing quotation marks with his fingers.

" _Nothing_  is a miracle food. But they are very good for you."

"I like 'em," Darcy chirps, grinning, and Steve pretends not to notice Bruce's cheeks go pink. They talk about Steve's upcoming birthday for a while, and how he'd like to celebrate it. Steve insists a small cake will be fine. Peter ignores him and discusses the logistics of a multi-tiered red-white-and-blue cake. Bucky, asshole that he is, encourages him and suggests adding sparklers to the top. Bruce is laughing in the kitchen.

**

Steve tries to read after dinner. He gets about two minutes in before Bucky curls up next to him on the bed, nudging the tablet out of Steve's hands with his head like a cat.

Steve laughs. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I want attention," Bucky informs him airily, and stretches out a little, making the most of the thin singlet that's riding up on his hips. He grins when he notices Steve's attention wander downwards.

"I see. What kind of attention did you have in mind?"

Bucky considers it. "I want you to sit and wrap your arms around me while we watch something on TV."

Steve nods. "Common room?"

"No, Jarvis can just do the projection thing. Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"That wall there? As much as you can fit." Bucky points across the room, and Jarvis obliges with a large screen displaying the Mets playing the Phillies. "Thanks."

Steve sits up. He didn't know Jarvis could do that, actually. "Is this live?"

"No, sir. This is from last night."

"Well, I missed it, so it's live enough." Bucky sits up and grabs a pillow, arranging it in front of Steve's stomach before knocking his legs apart and getting comfortable in the space he's made. "C'mon, Rogers. Get your arms in here. Be a good 'big spoon'."

"Why did I ever teach you that phrase?"

Bucky hums contentedly. As they get to the second inning, Steve can feel Bucky relaxing in his arms, maybe close to nodding off. Steve lifts one hand to get a strand of Bucky's hair away from his mouth before putting it back on Bucky's stomach. Bucky wordlessly twines their fingers together.

Third inning. Bucky's checking his phone; texting, finally chuckling and passing it up to Steve to read:

_Darcy: OMGGGGGG_

_Bucky: What does that mean_

_Darcy: IT MEANS OH MY GOD HE MADE ME CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE BARK_

_Bucky: It means that whole thing?_

_Darcy: shut up you know what I mean_

_Darcy: LOOK_

There is a media attachment: a slightly blurry photo of little strangely-shaped bits of chocolate with tiny ruby spots that must be pomegranate seeds. Steve squints at it and laughs. Bucky takes his phone back.

_Bucky: Steve and I want to know if it's good_

_Darcy: IT IS SO GOOD. I AM EATING SO MUCH OF IT._

"Steve, show me how to make one of those angry faces."

_Bucky: I need to tell him to stop making moves on my best girl >:(_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and [pomegranate snacks](http://www.nytimes.com/recipes/1015757/dark-chocolate-and-pomegranate-bark.html) to everyone who comments or [sends me asks](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/ask).


	22. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> ((OLD NOTE: As you probably know, I often request writing prompts over on Tumblr. Someone asked for 'more Darcy/Bruce', so [here it is](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/92271820896/amberlyinviolet-replied-to-your-post-writing)! It won't be included in this series properly since I never use Bruce's POV, but this is 'Catenary Chain canon', and occurs sometime before the last chapter. :)
> 
> Speaking of 'last chapter' stuff, this one isn't linked to any Circling Back chapter. For the first time ever!))

Bucky reaches down to help Peter off the floor. "You did good," he says, because Peter looks not only exhausted but a little let down with himself. "You're getting better."

"Yeah... and 'better' is still 'missing three targets'."

"Out of twenty-five." Bucky grins and looks to the dummies littered around the gym. They're the heavy fireproof ones he uses for training with Pepper, and they look like sarcophagi with scorch marks, but they're perfect for rescue practice. Heavy, hard to grip. If Parker can lift and carry these to the 'safe' platform, he should be able to handle anything. "I've been giving you less and less time to finish the same task. You had to fail eventually."

"Yeah, but-" Peter gestures at the three remaining, two untouched and one that slipped and fell and is face-down rather sadly below the platform. "I mean, if those are  _people?_  Then I-"

"Saved twenty-two of them. Stop it." Bucky punches him in the arm. "Everyone's got a limit."

Peter makes a grumbling noise, so Bucky punches him again. Peter flinches this time and rubs his shoulder.

"Lunch," Bucky says firmly. Peter looks at the peanut gallery, empty since so many people are in Africa and Steve stopped coming to training hours. (Bucky tries not to think about that.)

"Just us?" Peter asks.

Bucky looks around, then up at the ceiling, shrugging. "Unless you wanna invite Jarvis. Which... would be kinda mean, I think."

Peter grins. "We could bring him back something," he jokes, and Bucky's pleased to see he looks like Peter's starting to forgive himself.

**

Bucky hasn't worked up a sweat, but Peter has, so Bucky waits outside the showers and checks his phone. Pepper needs to reschedule her training due to a meeting conflict. Natasha's sent him a picture of a landscape: wide, open savanna, some kind of lizard resting on a rock in the forefront. Bucky smiles.

"Okay, I've got it." Peter comes out with fresh clothes, pointing both fingers at Bucky like little guns. "Vietnamese!"

"Had it yesterday," Bucky lies.

"Damn. I wanted crispy spring rolls. Okay. Okay." Peter bites his lip. "Paninis?"

**

It's sprinkling outside; Peter makes a face and pulls his hoodie up while Bucky just smirks and starts walking west toward the cafe. He knows there's a shorter way to get there, but this route will take them by the kiosk, if it's up today, and he knows Peter won't point out that Bucky's taking the long way.

Three alleys up ahead, four points of entry to the upcoming building. No CCTV that reaches across the street to his position. Five unarmed pedestrians, two cops, each carrying a loaded-

_Stop it. Stop._

Bucky keeps walking.

The kiosk  _is_  there. Excellent.

"These things are so funny to me." Bucky jerks his head for Peter to come over, picking one of the baseball caps on the table and turning it around in his hands. It's colored red and gold, with chrome 'plate' seams here and there, styled like Iron Man's helmet. Next to it is one with a Captain America shield placed off-center on the brim.

Peter laughs and tries on one of the navy blue caps with tiny white wings painted on the sides. "What's weird about it? Even before Iron Man happened, there were Superman t-shirts, all the comic book stuff."

"Clothes in my day just had, you know. Colors. Maybe even stripes."

"Living in the fuuuutuuure," Peter singsongs, pretending to 'autotune' his voice. He puts the hat back where he found it, and double-takes when he spots something else - Bucky smiles. Peter pulls the knit cap out of the pile, staring at the red and black emblem embroidered on the front.

"That's the Spider-Man symbol, isn't it?" Bucky asks.

The vendor looks up from his magazine to give Bucky a weird look. "How do you not know  _Spider-Man?_ "

"He's not from here," Peter lies easily, trying to hide a somewhat emotional reaction to a hat with a spider logo on it.

"Not from where,  _Earth?_ " The vendor laughs. "Watch the news sometime, pal. Bed Stuy's a wreck, but it's better than it was two years go. You wanna know why?"

Peter blinks. "Gentrification?"

" _Spider-Man,_ " The vendor says chidingly. "My buddy's daughter, she's just eighteen, she was walking home and almost got mugged."

Bucky feigns the interest of the uninformed. "This spider guy saved her?"

"Tied the mugger up in that weird web stuff, left him hangin' from a damn street pole." The vendor laughs.

"Huh." Bucky shoots Peter a 'not bad' expression. "Spider-Man sounds like a good guy."

"Story's not over." The vendor waves his hand as if to grab Bucky's attention. "Spider-Man. This kid. You know what else he does?"

Bucky shrugs. He honestly doesn't know.

The vendor opens his hands and spreads them wide. " _Walked her home._ "

**

Peter looks embarrassed as someone can get with all their clothes still on, Bucky thinks. He's glad he did that, though. Made an impression. The hat was gonna be good enough, but the story was icing on the cake.

"Inside or outside?" Peter points to the cafe tables outside, then to the large window. Bucky shrugs and walks indoors, where hopefully he won't feel as compelled to monitor everything going on. (Or figure out why birds are acting strangely. That's a new one that he hopes isn't going to become a habit.) There are already menus laid on the table, so Bucky slides into the corner booth and starts reading.

"God, the entire breakfast menu is paninis."

"I know, isn't it great?" Peter's beaming, the little punk. Bucky rolls his eyes. The waitress comes over, takes their drink order, and leaves again. Bucky likes this place. The waitstaff don't hover.

"Just so you know, Peter." Bucky leans back in the booth. "I'm not training you for that stuff anymore. Haven't been for months."

"For  _what_  stuff?"

"Street stuff." Bucky shrugs. "Thugs. Robberies. All the stuff the cops could do, but they're not there."

"...oh," Peter says, and it's obvious he doesn't get it. Bucky takes his soda as it's set down on the table, drinking it from the can and ignoring the glass of ice.

"Been training you for  _Avengers_  stuff."

Bucky's not looking at him, but he can tell from the body language in his peripheral vision. Peter's blinking, frozen in place, surprised.

"For gang shootouts, you don't need to get twenty-five people out of the line of fire for something like that. You just take the damn guns. You know that."

"Yeah," Peter says, sounding quiet.

"But if there's something  _bigger_  happening, something like what happened in DC, you could do a lot of good, getting people where they need to be, clearing people out of the way. You're fast." Bucky looks up at him. "Great at fighting, too, don't get me wrong. You've gotten really good. But the Avengers have a lot of heavy hitters. It'll be good for them to have someone who's good at saving as well as fighting."

"Are you, like, trying to make me pass out from feels today?"

Bucky squints. "Feels?"

"Feelings," Peter says, and then rubs at the back of his neck. "Man, I don't. I don't know what to say."

"So don't say anything. Clint says he's gonna work something out with a junkyard so you two can practice breaking car doors open, pulling them around, stuff like that. It's a really important part of crowd control." Bucky tilts his head. "You really walked that dame home?"

"Huh?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "The  _girl_. The mugging. You walked her home."

The waitress comes back to ask if they've picked. Peter apparently has a regular order that he rattles off. Bucky picks something with bacon and pesto. The waitress thanks them and leaves. They give her a few paces, Peter crumpling his straw, before resuming the conversation.

"She was crying, her phone was dead... nobody was  _around_. It was like two in the morning."

"Just swingin' around, two in the morning, looking for damsels in distress."

Peter squints. "What're you grinning for?"

 _Because I think you're going to end up the best of all of us._ "Because I think you're funny." He sips his drink. "So how's Mary Jane?"

"Good!" Peter's face breaks into a big smile that he probably doesn't realize he's making. "She, um, she said she wants to try to get into the same English class next semester."

Bucky frowns. "I thought you'd finished all your electives."

"Yeah, but. This is a 300-level, and. Y'know." He gestures emphatically. "She's taking it, so."

"Uh-huh." Bucky smirks, sipping his drink. "So what's it about?"

"Um. Tolkien?"

"Score!"

"What?"

"Finally, a class I can help you with."

"You know it's going to be, like, deconstructive readings, analyses of the characters, comparisons to modern fantasy writers..."

"Finally, a class I can...  _maybe_  help you with."

Peter fidgets at the table. "Did you really get Steve a copy of The Hobbit when you were kids?"

"Huh?"

"At the party that one time, Clint was saying. The book on the auction site."

"Oh. Yeah." Bucky grimaces. "He only ever had one copy of that book. Not counting the one he loaned from the library so often I was pretty sure they were just gonna let him have it after a few months."

"That kinda blows."

"Yep." Bucky uses the end of his straw to push some ice cubes around, letting the conversation lull for a while.

Thinking of Steve lately fills him with a weird kind of anxiety. There's still some part of him that kicks himself for letting Steve worry about him, for not being able to...  _protect_ Steve more from his moodiness. Bucky's got a hazy mix of Zola's face and the scope of a dozen different rifles floating around in his head, and if he lets his guard down for too long, the training sessions start coming back; little snippets of backhands across the face, electric shocks, the dark cold four foot by four foot room that he was never in for fewer than three days, there's too many things to -

"Sergeant?"

Bucky looks up.

"Panini." Peter's nudging Bucky's plate toward him nervously. Bucky nods and picks up his cutlery.


	23. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Bucky accepts a sudden, awkward, but  _very_  heartfelt hug, and then Peter is disappearing down into the subway, gym bag bouncing against his back as he takes the stairs two at a time. Bucky turns and heads back to the Tower.

The light rain has let up and it's close enough to noon that people are starting to pour out of buildings in search of food. It's too many people for comfort, but Bucky reminds himself that if this is the hardest thing in his life, to walk on a sidewalk, things aren't so bad. This carries him for a few blocks; then a few people jostle him and he has to take a few deep breaths, ducking into a store to pretend to look at imports so he can catch his breath and calm his nerves.

The girls behind the counter are holding a quiet conversation in Mandarin. Bucky listens in for a while, enjoying the second-hand gossip about a boyfriend that's getting too clingy and a cousin who's spending all of his parents' money. When one girl makes a joke about the boyfriend being close to standing outside a window with a boombox, Bucky realizes he gets the reference, and has to hold in a bark of laughter to prevent them from discovering he knows what they're saying. He pretends to take great interest in some black lacquer jewelry boxes and slips out. He feels better.

At a crosswalk, a man walks against the light and the blocked sedan leans heavily on the horn. Bucky flinches and forces another deep breath. There's something good waiting for him at the end of this walk. Steve will curl up with him on impossibly soft sheets and Bucky can even drift to sleep if he feels like it. When he wakes up, Steve will still be there, nuzzled in tight and one arm slung across his chest. Bucky focuses on the picture in his mind and moves when the light changes. Calm strides. Deep breaths.

He gets into the building and practically collapses against the wall when he gets to the secure elevator.

"A taxing journey out, sir?"

"I'm getting better," Bucky murmurs, and smiles a little. He is, actually. Rachel will be happy to hear it. "Where's Steve?"

"In your bedroom, sir. Should I inform him you're on your way?"

"Nah, he'll see me soon enough." The doors open and Bucky trots out, laughing inwardly at himself for how excited he is to see him. It's dumb, isn't it? His best friend, someone he's known forever, spent more of his life with than anyone else, but. Ever since. Ever since things changed, got better,  _developed_ , Rachel keeps calling it, there's even more of a draw to him. Bucky slips into the bedroom and just  _looks_  for a second - a thin undershirt and black sweatpants. Steve's never needed to wear anything fancy to get Bucky's attention, but the simple stuff has always worked best; long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, muscles taut where the shirt's slid up on the side, perfect lips curved into a smile when he looks up. Bucky crawls onto the bed and worms his way under Steve's arm before the man even has a chance to set his tablet down.

"Hey there," Steve says, clearly surprised but amused by the playfulness. One hand falls into a familiar pattern of caresses in Bucky's hair and Bucky breathes in deeply to let out a contented sigh.

But there's that smell again.

He keeps his muscles lax. Steve keeps touching him, the pads of his fingers massaging the base of his skull just like he likes. Bucky thinks about it. Thinks about the smell, about how many times this has happened, about how it's been bugging him for weeks now.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Can a fella ask a weird question?"

Steve either notices Bucky's tension or gets tense all on his own. One of the two, because Bucky can feel the thigh muscle under his cheek bow up and stay there, feels the twitch and hesitation in the hand. "Um, of course?"

Bucky stays where he is, expression mostly hidden by how he's turned and the splay of hair over his cheek. "You'd tell me if I wasn't doing it for you, right?"

Steve splutters. " _What?_ "

Damage control. "I mean, if you felt like you needed something else, something different, you could just say."

"Buck, where the hell is this coming from?"

Bucky keeps his tone light. "S'just that nearly every time I come back from training, if you weren't there, you're here and you're all showered and you smell like sex."

As predicted, Steve goes quiet at that. The practical bouquet of soaps on him makes it obvious enough that he showered to get rid of the smell, and he  _has_ , to probably every nose in the house but Bucky's and maybe his own... Bucky squirms a little and grabs the hand that's gone motionless on his scalp, holding it and squeezing it and hoping that keeps Steve from feeling caught, or worse, mad.

"I, um." Steve takes a deep breath that Bucky can feel against the back of his neck. "I didn't realize that you could notice that."

"Every guy takes care of themselves now and again, but. Y'know, I just thought I'd make sure there wasn't something I was missing." And  _god_ , if there is, Bucky will do it. The internet's shown him half a dozen things he didn't know existed that he'd try in a heartbeat if he didn't think they'd scare Steve off or give him a laughing fit, and he's sure there are a dozen more out there he doesn't know about but would give a shot. Steve always seems more than satisfied when they're done, mouth rosy pink and hanging open, eyes tight shut and brows together, a perfect picture, but the evidence isn't just there in the air right now, it's  _repeating_ , more than half the time Steve's got an hour or more to himself.

Steve takes a deep breath and Bucky steels himself for whatever it is. "You've got it kind of backwards. Um. It's not... you're  _great_ , Buck. Everything we do, is." Steve huffs out an embarrassed laugh and in his mind's eye Bucky can see him tilting his head and looking away. "I really like what we do."

"So you wish we were doing it more?" That wouldn't exactly be a hardship.

"No! No, I mean - if you want, then sure, I - I'm screwing this up. Jeez." Steve squirms and Bucky finally sits up, taking the hint to give Steve a little more room. Steve's face is redder than Bucky could've imagined, eyes darting toward the window and lip between his teeth. "All that time you spent with dames, and I didn't have anything, really, so..." He gestures in a sort of 'and so on' gesture, like he really hopes that explains it all.

"You had Penelope Thompson, at least."

" _No_." Steve laughs. "I - I kissed her, and we fooled around for a good minute, but she changed her mind and I didn't push it. We ended up sitting by the window and just talking."

Bucky sputters. "I spent half an hour out in the rain to give you privacy!"

"And I appreciated it!" Steve waves his hands around. "That was, I mean, that was the furthest I'd ever been, and she was real sweet, but she didn't wanna do much more than pet, so, y'know. Window it was."

"Looking out over the  _pouring rain_."

"Which you were in. I know, I know." Steve presses the heel of his palm against his head like he's pushing away an ache. "You were so soaked and smug when you came in I didn't have the heart to tell you."

Bucky considers this. "Did you  _ever_..."

"There was a USO girl, but it never got that serious. She was just." Steve shrugs. "Looking for some fun."

Bucky sits back on his hands and lets it soak in that Steve is more or less admitting that he was his first. He expects to feel some kind of weird pride, but mostly he just... wants to spoil Steve. Because now he's  _sure_  that nobody else has, and if anyone deserves it, it's this guy.

"Quit looking like that." Steve laughs. "It's not a big deal."

"You never mentioned."

Steve shrugs. "It never came up." He looks away. "Anyway, I should've told you what I was up to. I figured, all the catching up I wanted to do, I could just do it while you were busy somewhere else."

"Catching up?" Bucky frowns, and Steve levels him a serious look.

"I wasn't a complete moron, you know. I knew I could hurt you if I wasn't careful."

"Bucky Barnes, made of spun glass." The words settle in and Bucky leans in. "Wait, so you haven't just been jerking off?"

"No, I've been-" Steve gesticulates and his cheeks go pink again. "I mean, I wanted it to be good for you, and as soon as I started practicing you clearly liked it better, so. I kept on."

Bucky starts thinking back to the first awkward probings and then to a few nights later, the curled fingers and gentle stroking and... actually, this whole idea is kind of really hot. "So you've been fingering yourself so you could fuck me better."

"Pretty much, yeah."

Bucky considers this and tries to focus on continuing the discussion,  _not_  just jumping Steve and tearing his clothes off. "Wait, why don't you smell like cherries?"

"There's an unscented bottle in the box, too."

Bucky stares at Steve a moment, then gets off the bed and goes to the box.

"I never meant it to be some kind of big secret, I just figured I should see what felt good, and... hell, if you ever wanted to trade places, it'd be easier for you to-"

Bucky looks up from rummaging. "Trade places?"

Steve's cheekbones are still tinged pink. "Why not?"

Bucky rummages faster. There, in the corner, between the plug and the - Bucky swears and just drags the whole box onto the edge of the bed, pushing the clear plastic bottle into Steve's hands and sitting back. Steve looks at his hand, then at Bucky, not sure what he's supposed to do even though it could  _not_  be more obvious. Bucky rolls his eyes, crawling on all fours to straddle Steve's legs and lean in close.

"Thinking of you, doing  _that_ ," he says in a low voice, "is the hottest thing I've ever fucking heard."

Steve's lips tilt into a smile. "So you wanna watch?"

"Fuck  _yes_  I do."

The hesitation practically melts off Steve- he leans forward just enough to catch Bucky's mouth in a quick kiss. Bucky demands a second one, pressing in tightly and coaxing Steve's mouth open. Steve makes a small sound and reaches for Bucky's shoulder, but Bucky won't have it. No distractions. He pulls back, giving Steve all the room he could need and drinking in the sight of him. There's already a tell-tale shape at the front of Steve's sweatpants, and his chest is stuttering with little breaths. "Okay," Steve says, and shucks off his clothes, dropping them by the edge of the bed and popping the cap open.

Bucky is reminded of how fucking lucky he is.

"You're just gonna sit over there?" Steve pulls his legs up a little, beautifully unashamed as he coats his fingers with the thick clear stuff and closes the cap, tossing the bottle aside. God, he  _has_  done this before - something about that fact sinks in further and Bucky can feel his erection pressing against his jeans. Steve's is halfway there, getting harder as Steve's fingertips circle his opening and begin to press in. Bucky watches intently and is pretty sure he moans louder than Steve does.

" _Fuck_ , Steve."

Steve doesn't answer, just breathes in deep and pushes in to the second knuckle. "Still... kind of open from earlier," he murmurs, and that's too much, that's  _so much_ , Bucky has to get up on his knees and work his jeans down, off completely, because this is Steve Rogers fucking himself with his fingers and talking about how he did it  _just a few hours ago._ When Bucky's completely undressed, he looks up again and sees Steve's eyes locked on him, fingers in a steady rhythm and thrusting shallowly.

"How's it feel?" Bucky asks, suddenly curious. He curls his fingers around himself and bites back a groan at the feeling of relief that washes over him.

"...different," Steve responds, grinning. "It was weird the first few times, but it's good now, I know wh-  _nnn_..." Steve arches off the bed a little, angling his hips and suddenly pushing more insistently into himself. Bucky reaches down and grips the base of his cock hard, making himself hold off, but damn, Steve's not making this easy; his lower lip is captured between his teeth now, worrying it into redness, and his cock is fully hard, flush and gorgeous on his stomach.

Bucky spreads the fresh bead of precome over his cock and starts stroking in time.

"I can't... reach as deep as I can with you, because of the angle and all, but... it gives me a decent idea of what feels good and where." Steve grins and slows down a little, concentrating,  _searching_ , and his fingers must brush against his prostate, because his hips rise off the bed and his mouth falls open in a soundless moan. When his eyes open again and they're on Bucky, Bucky feels like he's going to pass out from how much blood has traveled to his cock.

Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "Why do you like this so much?"

"Because you're gorgeous," Bucky says without hesitation, "and 'cause I can imagine it's me fucking you."

Steve's quiet at first, staring at his face, and then his eyes are lidding shut and he's fucking himself a little deeper with every stroke, like maybe he's imagining that now, too. The flush that had taken over his cheeks and throat is reaching his chest, pinking the sweat-slicked skin and it just makes Bucky harder, jerk himself a little more forcefully, still keeping in time with what Steve's doing.

Steve's hips are angled up to give him a better reach, but it's clear it's not quite enough. He's stretched and open, fingers going in easily now, and without letting himself second-guess, Bucky lets go of himself and nearly tumbles over to the other side of the bed. Somewhere in the box there's a-

"What're you doing?"

"Looking for the..." Bucky can't remember the word for it. "You'll like it."

It's fairly small - well, small for a fake cock, at least, a little bulbed at the front end. The batteries are fed in the back, and twisting the end makes it vibrate. There are different notches with tiny numbers. When Bucky discovered it the first night, he found that different numbers meant different speeds and intensities.

"Is that a vibrator?"

Bucky looks up from the thing, losing himself in the sight of Steve for a moment before collecting his thoughts again. "Yeah." He gives his best roguish grin, suddenly desperately interested in seeing Steve use it. "Wanna try it?"

Steve's pupils get even larger, and he grins, looking from the toy to Bucky's erection. "It's not quite up to par," he pants, "but maybe it'll be a good place to start." Whatever's in Bucky's expression makes him smile. "But um, will you slick it up for me?"

Bucky doesn't need to be told again. He snatches up the clear bottle, fumbling it open and dripping some of the contents onto the toy. He tosses the bottle aside and starts stroking the thick fluid around, making sure the whole thing's covered. When he catches Steve watching with a funny expression he grins, slowing down and giving extra 'attention' to the head.

"See something you like?"

"See someone taking their damn time," Steve breathes, and Bucky takes that as a sign that Steve's ready. Bucky flips the toy over and holds the handle out to Steve, who takes it, tilting his head a little.

"You really wanna see  _me_  do it, huh?"

Bucky nods wordlessly and scoots back to his original spot. From there, he can see the erratic rise and fall of Steve's chest, the precome sticky on his skin, and the clear trail of lubricant that's slicked around his hole. Bucky bites his lip and grips himself again, holding back a desperate sound as he gets to watch Steve angle the toy at his entrance and start to push in.

" _Jeez_ , that's... different." Steve trembles a little when he gets to the end of the bulb, halfway in, giving himself a second to adjust. Now that it's the toy and not Steve's fingers, Bucky can more easily see how it disappears into him, how his body clenches down on it.

"Good?" Bucky rasps.

Steve doesn't answer, just nudges it in a little further, back again, starting to thrust with a rhythm. His mouth goes from a thin determined line to open again, gasping for air, fingers slippery and trying to grasp and redirect and push in harder. Bucky can't look away no matter how fast he can feel his orgasm rising up. Maybe if he does it quiet Steve won't know, won't stop, and he can probably get it up again before Steve's done - it's hard not to feel like a teenager when he has someone who can keep up with him, and Steve is  _hungry_  for it, angling the toy upward and rocking into it a little as his heels drag against the mattress.

"Bucky, I'm gonna-"

"Twist it."

"Wh?" Steve gives him a glassy, confused stare, and Bucky leans forward and uses his left hand to take the one Steve's curled in the blankets, leading it to the end of the toy.

"Twist it," Bucky insists, and Steve does without question. The soft whirring sound is mostly muffled by Steve's body, but Bucky knows it's working from how Steve's body kicks up and bows, he's  _keening_ , and all at once Steve is grabbing his own erection and pushing the toy in deeper, spilling into his hand, onto his stomach, his chest. Bucky finally lets himself stroke the way he knows he wants and he's following suit, a few thick spurts reaching Steve's calves and the sheets beneath them. Bucky comes down from the high feeling boneless, sticking his free hand out to brace his sideways drop onto the mattress.

They're quiet for a while other than Steve twisting the toy off, gently pulling it out, and both of them panting quietly.

"Your ideas aren't half bad," Steve says finally.

Bucky peeks up through his hair. "The masturbating or the vibrator?"

Steve laughs and shrugs his shoulders, reaching out for Bucky to join him up at the head of the bed. Later they'll have to strip the sheets and put on new ones, never mind the shower, but Bucky looks at Steve's contented face and mussed hair and decides he's going to make sure they get some cuddling in first.


	24. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

By the time Steve gets out of the shower, Bucky's already dressed.

"Sam wants to talk about something," he says, frowning and looking at his phone. "I'll try to catch up for breakfast."

"Okay." Steve sneaks in a quick kiss before Bucky disappears into the hallway.

**

Steve takes his time getting ready and getting some pancakes together, eager to keep Bucky's spirits up and knowing that this can be done at least partially with food. The first ones are a little burnt from lack of recent practice, but he just eats those as he starts the second batch in the pan.

His phone beeps.

_Bucky Barnes: patio asap_

Steve turns the stovetop off and moves the pan to a cold burner, walking through the dining area, the common room, looking out the French doors to see Sam and Bucky both sitting on deck chairs, leaning forward as if watching something absolutely fascinating just out of view. Steve slips out and joins them as quietly as possible, looking to the left and only seeing a few pigeons resting on the pool's diving board.

Bucky throws a hand up in Steve's direction as if telling him to stay silent and pay attention. "Okay," he's saying quietly. "Now make the little one jump."

Sam, staring intently at the diving board, leans forward a little more. The bigger bird twists its head around a few times in something like curiosity, and the little one hops off, wings fluttering a moment before splashing into the pool and floating duck-like in little circles. It starts to bathe itself. Steve looks back to Bucky and Sam.

"Um," he whispers. "What... are we doing?"

"I have no idea," Sam murmurs.

Bucky reaches out for Steve to come sit by him, and after checking the perimeter for... anything, really... Steve does so, looking from the birds to his friends and back to the birds. The big one on the diving board coos, fluffing up and beginning to preen itself; they look normal. Like regular birds.

Bucky elbows Sam. "Make the big one fly over here. Wait! Wait! Tell him to walk."

"Her," Sam corrects, almost miserably. The bigger pigeon stops preening, getting up and waddling down the board, hopping down the little stairs, coming around the pool to rest about four feet from the chairs. Steve gets an epiphany and leans forward to look in Sam's hands for the controller.

"Did Tony make these?" he asks. Actually, now that he thinks of it, it's not a dumb idea. They blend in perfectly with the city, small enough to get anywhere, they presumably fly, and cameras that send secure wireless signals can be so small that you could spy on something happening on the other side of town with no problem.

Bucky looks over, lifting his eyebrows. "Oh, I thought the same fucking thing," he whispers. "But  _no_. Those are just birds."

The bigger pigeon - the girl pigeon? - coos again. Sam wipes his face like he's in the middle of some deep emotional breakdown.

"Sam, are you okay?"

Sam makes a weird sound. "I told Bucky to come and help me figure out if I was losing my mind, and I'm still not sure."

Bucky smiles and rubs some friendly circles on Sam's back. "Not crazy. Still my area."

Steve peers at the pigeon. It seems to be strangely interested in watching Sam. "I'm still confused."

Sam points to the bird. "Pick something for her to do," he says. "I mean, something a  _bird_  can do, don't ask her to recite her favorite part of Hamlet or something."

"Um." Steve's starting to catch on, but it makes no sense. "Walk around in circles?"

Sam looks over at the pigeon, and it trills, getting up and whizzing around a few times in little loops. Steve stares at it.

"So that's a real living bird," Steve recaps, "and you can... control it?"

"Yep," Bucky chirps. "Or I guess he can ask them to do stuff? I don't think he could make them kill themselves or some-"

"I am  _not_  trying that."

"I didn't say you would! Jeez." Bucky claps him on the shoulder again, clearly doing his best to ground Sam and keep him from some sort of psychological break. "He can  _talk_  to them, I guess, and hey, now we know what that whole thing in your chart meant. 'Acceleration and refinement of the most developed section of the interspecies relations ...' cortex? I forget the rest. But anyway, there it is."

"I'm Doolittle," Sam's mumbling to himself. "Pym Doolittled me."

" _Most developed_ , " Bucky corrects. "You made me watch that movie; that guy could talk to  _anything_. Only birds've been acting weird around you."

Sam looks up, wounded. "You  _knew?_ "

" _No_ ," Bucky enunciates. "I thought  _I_  was crazy."

The bird in the pool paddles over, cheeping.

**

Steve calls Janet, because it seems like the smart thing to do. Plus, Bucky won't come in from the patio, enjoying himself too much by directing the birds around through Sam. While the phone rings, Steve grabs the cold pancakes from the kitchen, carrying them out on a plate for the pigeons. Food's still food. It's silly to waste it.

"Van Dyne."

"Hi, Janet, this is Steve Rogers."

"Oh my gosh! Hi, Steve, how are you? Are you - hold on, let me pull over." A pause. "Is everything alright? Is Sam doing okay?"

"Sam's okay," Steve says, because while Sam is in a very bizarre and inexplicable place right now, the rule is still Make It Clear They're Not Dying at the beginning of any conversation. "We think we've found the - oh, wow." Steve is momentarily distracted as he notices both birds perched calmly on Bucky's outstretched prosthetic arm.

"Steve?"

"You might want to come over today. If you have time."

**

Bucky's in an unshakably good mood, probably because of the novelty and because he no longer has to worry about why he thought wildlife was acting strangely. He doesn't mind disappearing when Jarvis announces Janet's approach. (Sam insists she'll understand, but Bucky is firm on this - there's no reason to introduce himself yet, and she needs to focus on Sam right now.)

Sam brightens as soon as he realizes that Janet thinks his trick is really cool. She does insist on some scans to ensure he's still healthy.

"We should take you to a  _zoo,_ " she enthuses, then bites her lip. "Or maybe you should never go to a zoo ever again. I'm not sure."

"I think I can control it," Sam says, sitting up from the exam table and looking out the window. "I mean, now that I know I'm not hallucinating weird voices and stuff in my head, it's a lot easier to think to them and stuff."

Janet frowns. "How long have you felt.. y'know, voicey?"

Sam shrugs. "I literally just thought those ducks were super cool ducks. Um. It wasn't until this morning when some birds came over and I wanted them to leave my bagel alone that I realized they were actually listening to me."

"Well, I'm not great with brain scans, but the affected area hasn't changed since the doctors said you were alright, and I'm gonna send them a copy of this one just in case." Janet huffs out a breath. "God. Hank really does love bugs."

Steve blinks. "Sam can talk to bugs too?"

"No," Janet says. " _Hank_  would've been able to talk to bugs. The most developed area ... basically whatever non-human species you have the most developed interpersonal relationship with in your brain, that's what the serum targeted. So, if you were a cat person, you could, y'know. Talk to cats. Sam, you kept some birds when you were a teenager, right?"

"Yeah," Sam says faintly.

_Steve Rogers: He's healthy. Bird powers sound permanent. Future is so strange._

_Bucky Barnes: NO SHIT_

**

Sam and Janet go out for brunch. Bucky reemerges and decides he wants to try his hand at the pancakes.

Steve gets his art bag from their room and starts drawing Sam as a sort of modern Cinderella. Instead of assorted forest creatures around him, he sketches pigeons, a pair of peacocks, and a couple fat budgies on his shoulders. Maybe he'll tack it on to the whiteboard next to the grumpy Bucky and frightened spider drawings.

"You want chocolate chips in yours?"

"Hmm?" Steve looks up from the paper to the doorway to the kitchen.

"Chocolate chips," Bucky repeats in the other room. "In your pancakes. Or blueberries. I think there's still some blueberries."

"Blueberries sound great." Steve smiles. "You don't have any teleconference or training today, do you?"

"No, just Pepper tomorrow after lunch. Why?"

"I was thinking I could make up for all those training sessions I skipped out on. Feel like sparring?"


	25. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

"No, it's -  _Christ_ , it's weird." Bucky dodges another swing and falls back a step. Unnecessarily on the defense, Steve thinks. Reluctant to advance.

Steve changes his stance and plants his feet in the mat, looking over his fists. "Wanna stop?"

Bucky makes a face like he can't make up his mind. Steve's seen him throw lots of hard hits at Peter, someone less trained and less tough than Steve, but there's no mystery why this is different. Steve nods and straightens up, holding up his hands to show he's no longer sparring. "We made it about two minutes," he says calmly, "and that's two minutes more than you've made it before. I call it a win."

Bucky sighs and rolls his shoulders, straightening too. "I dunno what's wrong with me," he says as they walk to the door. "I mean, when we were growing up, I wanted to hit you all the time. Ow!" Bucky rubs his shoulder. "Yeah, something like that."

Steve grins at him. "I'll try to work on being more irritating."

"Thanks, buddy," Bucky deadpans. "I really appreciate you helping my healing process and all."

"I'm  _here_  for you."

**

Tony, Clint, and Natasha's plane has some kind of runway delay. They end up landing late at night.

_Steve Rogers: Did you get dinner? I could cook something._

_UNLISTED: Clint's insisting on drive-thru, but I'm gonna take a raincheck on that Steve Rogers home-made meal._

_Steve Rogers: Hope you like soup or grilled cheese._

It's about one in the morning when they finally get back to the Tower. Bucky uncurls from Steve's lap to help Natasha with her luggage, a chivalrous gesture that Steve knows she would only accept from someone born before the moon landing. As the two of them disappear into the elevator, Steve shakes Tony's hand, welcoming him back.

"Anything?" he asks.

"Got some hard evidence," Tony says, adjusting his track suit and tucking his sunglasses into a case. "But seriously, have I bitched enough yet about public transport?"

" _First class_ ," Clint corrects, already rummaging through the fridge for some more dinner. He finds a takeout box, notices the 'B' scribbled on the side, and wisely puts it back.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. But some of us are consistently pictured in Forbes and would really rather not have to go incognito when traveling internationally. There's gonna be a damn Avengers plane."

Steve shrugs. "I'm sure Hulk will be happy to help assemble the bigger parts. Bruce says hi, by the way. He only made it until midnight."

"That's what happens when you don't allow yourself caffeine. You have normal biorhythms. Terrible." Tony waves it away dismissively. "Okay. I'm wrapping up my big WIPs tomorrow and then I'm doing plane stuff. I've decided. Barton, that means you can draw up some official-looking report for T'Challa, right?"

Barton makes an annoyed sound.

**

Bucky slips into the bedroom about an hour later, shucking his clothes and burrowing in with Steve.

"Good to have her back?"

"Mmhmm." Bucky presses his nose between Steve's shoulder blades, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Steve rolls over for a chaste kiss but laughs when he sees the state of him. "What?"

"Your hair's a mess," Steve grins. "Was she playing with it?"

Bucky actually looks a little embarrassed. "Yeah." He looks like he's not sure if that's okay, so Steve makes sure to keep smiling, pulling his hand from under the sheets to finger-comb it back into place. He keeps stroking even after he's done, and Bucky falls asleep just like that.

**

Steve wakes up because Bucky is nudging him.

"Mmm?" Steve squints at the window's early-morning light, then at Bucky, who's looking too self-conscious to get really mad at. "What's wrong?"

Bucky slides his phone over. Steve rubs the sleep out of his eyes and pushes himself up on an elbow to read the screen.

_Tony: Hey Tall Dark and Magnetic, you awake?_

_Bucky: Yes._

_Tony: I've finished the arm net. Come on down whenever._

_Tony: Actually that's a lie. Not whenever. I have other stuff to do today. The next twenty minutes is preferable._

Steve looks up at Bucky. "Arm net?"

"It's a -" Bucky shifts. "It's an upgrade we've talked about. He kind of has to take it apart a little, though."

"Oh." Steve sits up, catching on. 'It' means Bucky's left arm. "Is it gonna hurt?"

"No." Bucky looks at the door, saying nothing else.

"Mind if I come along anyway?"

Bucky smiles a little, and Steve knows he said the right thing.

**

"Okay, so this is me explaining all the things." Tony, still wearing the track suit from last night, picks up some interlocking metallic pieces that come together to make a forearm. "You've got one of these right now, under the gel layer and the fleshy flesh layer. I'm gonna give you this  _smaller_  one, because I'm a genius who made sure that it was only ever 70% full. That way, when I add the net between this and the gel, you won't look bulky."

"Okay," Bucky says, and leans back a little, looking at the strange fishnet of circuitry which is crumpled but, very likely, is in the shape of a glove for a left arm and hand.

"We're getting to that. It's a thing, it does a thing, it's gonna need adjusting, it'll be a process. First. Shirt off. Good. Okay." Tony pulls a bottle of solution from somewhere, dabbing it along the seam of the fake flesh. Steve watches as some kind of invisible glue breaks apart, letting Tony peel down to reveal... a gel layer, translucent and strange, and then metallic casing underneath.

Steve watches the wing tattoo at the shoulder fold and disappear as Tony pulls it away. He watches Bucky's expression; he seems pretty calm so far, but Steve takes his right hand and squeezes it anyway.

"Your safe word for the next twenty minutes is 'cold fusion'." Tony rolls the gel down, tosses it aside, then does something with a not-screwdriver to separate the casing panels from each other. The arm has suddenly lost most of its mass, and the circuitry and wires underneath are...

Steve takes a deep breath.

"We good, Barnes?"

"Yes. Um. Give me a second?"

Tony shrugs.

Bucky takes the opportunity to lift his arm, flex it, watching the metallic fingers curl one-by-one, then altogether. Without the muffling of the casings and everything else, there are soft whirring sounds. Nothing like his first arm, but it's still unsettling to listen to. Bucky twists and flexes a little more, as if assuring himself of something, and then holds it out straight for Tony to work on.

"Okay. Wiggles completed. Now we plug in the net so we can... I've gotta do this without making your brain freak out, so it's off right now. Just. Trust me for a second." Tony plugs something at the end of the net into an open port in the bicep, laying the glove across Bucky's shoulder. The smaller panels click in, the wire sticking out at the shoulder, and Tony grabs Bucky by the fingers to orient him so he can slide the glove on. Bucky's mouth turns into a flat line, and he looks over to Steve a moment, squeezing his hand back and forcing himself to take deep breaths.

"Still good?"

"Yeah, you're fine." Bucky lets go of Steve to rub at his face. "Just remembering stuff."

Tony looks up from rolling the glove on. "Didn't you kill some of your technicians?"

Bucky's in good enough humor to peek through his fingers and waggle his eyebrows.

"Ugh, you're the worst. Okay. So now it's on you, but now I'm going to put the gel back on and then the skin and then  _turn_  it on, and then I'm going to poke you all over. In a respectful scientific way."

"Okay."

"Great." Tony rolls the gel back on, then the skin, then pulls out another not-screwdriver and aligns it with the glove until something beeps. (Steve tries not to feel disconcerted by the way the seam at the shoulder is unfinished, fake skin curling and the glove wire still looping out. Bucky, to his shame, catches him looking.)

Something beeps. Tony claps. "That's the right beep! Okay! It works. Still a genius. Bucky, feel anything?"

Bucky frowns. "No."

"Good, because you shouldn't yet. Okay. Begin poke test." Tony swirls his pointer finger upward in a huge spiral, and then lands it directly into Bucky's left palm.

Bucky flinches and then kicks himself off the examination table so hard he lands halfway across the room.

" _Buck!?_ " Steve yells, pushing a rolling table out of the way to see what's happened. Bucky is sitting on the floor, leaning back on both hands before flinching his left one off the floor as if it burned him. He stares at it, making a fist and then flattening his fingers out very suddenly, fanning them so they don't touch. "Tony. Turn it off."

"I can if he comes back over here. Hey, what's it feel like?"

"I don't-" Bucky chokes, alarmed. "It's really... weird."

Tony shrugs. "Does it... hurt?"

Bucky frowns. "No."

"Does it feel..."

"I don't  _know_ , it just -" Bucky lowers it very carefully until it grazes the ground, then presses a little, and his eyebrows shoot up and come together.

"Unless it makes you feel murderous, would you mind coming over here so I can prod it with a tiny bit more precision than whatever you're doing?"

Bucky shoots him a brief scowl before pressing the heels of his hands together, intertwining his fingers, separating them again to push up slowly from the floor. He looks off-kilter. "I think it's... too much."

"Lower sensitivity by 10%?" Tony offers.

Bucky bites his lip. "Can we do more than that?"

"More of less? 30%?" Tony shrugs. "Whatever you want, Tin Man."

Bucky nods and slowly gets up, only pushing himself to his feet with his right hand. He leans a little into Steve's warmth as he passes him, coming back and sitting on the edge of the table.

**

"You were looking at my arm like it was the next Red Skull face."

Steve flinches back from the accusation. " _Nothing_  like that."

Bucky cants his head. He doesn't look hurt, but he looks like he's... Steve can't quite pinpoint it.

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks out. Steve curses under his breath and follows him.

**

"It doesn't feel  _good_ , it just feels like... pressure." Bucky nuzzles Steve's hand as it gets close enough, watching as it drifts down to massage his left bicep again. "Like I'm wearing a heavy jacket."

"Hmm," Steve says thoughtfully, and leans over to press a kiss just beneath the tattoo. "And that?"

"Too light to register." Bucky shrugs apologetically, then laughs as Steve makes a show of pressing his mouth in very, very firmly.

**

"It's not  _you_  that makes me uncomfortable," Steve finally murmurs, after they've curled up in the sheets and drifted asleep for a few hours. "It's just... being reminded of what they did to you."

Bucky doesn't say anything at first, and Steve begins to worry. Finally, Bucky rolls onto his side, pressing his face into Steve's hair and giving a sleepy huff.

Steve waits for Bucky to add something verbal, but after a soft snore it's clear that Bucky's fallen back asleep.


	26. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> Serious appreciation to those who've been so nice and encouraging as I get everything back online.

Bucky swallows and pulls off, grinning up at Steve's face with a look of innocence that is completely marred by the droplet of white at the corner of his mouth.

"Jeez, Bucky." Steve laughs breathlessly and wobbles a little, legs shaking.

"So I guess you liked it, then?"

Steve rolls his eyes and hauls Bucky up by the shoulder, leaning in to kiss him briefly before nudging him to the bed. "Clothes off. On your stomach."

Bucky beams.

**

Sam drops into the chair next to Bucky at the dining table, leaning forward so he can look at both of them.

"So," he says smoothly, "I'm thinking I'm gonna invite Janet to family dinner tonight."

Steve blinks, and looks to Bucky, who leans back in his chair and swallows the bite of pancake in his mouth.

"I can be somewhere else," he says amiably. Sam shakes his head.

"You can be there," Sam says, and opens his hands up a little. "Janet was high-level SHIELD. The not-corrupt part of it. She's got the secrets of practically everyone in this Tower and she's had 'em for years. She's not going to freak out or sell out if she learns yours."

Bucky makes a face, but he looks to Steve, like he's willing to hear more of this. Steve shrugs. "If she approved Bruce for Project Avengers, considering Hulk's kill count, I don't think she'd..." Steve gestures. "...not be able to deal with you."

"'Deal with me'?"

"Poor choice of words. Deal with your  _history_."

Bucky sighs and inclines his head. "Peter handled it fine, I guess." He looks at the center of the table for a while, considering, then nods. "Okay. Do you want me to talk to her? Or, um, not talk to her? Or-"

Sam scoots forward to hug him. "Just be you, man. I'll explain it, she'll be fine."

**

Janet reports through Sam that she's going to make a dessert and she's very excited.

**

_Tony Stark: CONTENDERS FOR YOUR TITLE! BEWARE!_

Steve frowns and opens up the media attachment. The picture is taken through the French doors in the common area that lead to the patio. In two deck chairs pushed together, Bruce is sprawled out with one arm thrown loosely over Darcy's shoulders. Darcy is curled up against his side. They're clearly asleep.

_Steve Rogers: No peeping Tom pictures, thank you._

_Tony Stark: Peeping Tom would be asking Jarvis for the security audio from Bruce's room last night. I'll stick with the sun napping, thanks._

_Steve Rogers: I sure missed you, Tony._

_Tony Stark: This is me calmly ignoring your unnecessary and hurtful sarcasm._

**

"You're not working with Natasha or Clint anymore," Bucky says, gesturing for Steve to come over. "It's Steve and me now. Thor, when he gets back."

"What? Why?" Peter frowns and looks over at Natasha and Clint, who are making a show of putting their feet up on the sidelines and getting comfortable. They're smart, Steve thinks. They already know the answer.

"Because when you train, you give it your all when you dodge. But you hold back when you strike. Steve and me, you won't break our bones."

"But if you do," Clint says, "I will be very impressed."

Peter's got the nervous, worried expression that inspired the skittish spider drawing on the whiteboard. "I don't hold back," he says slowly, frowning at Bucky.

"You don't  _realize_  you're doing it. Trust me, Parker. Now: ceiling. Steve, corner. Routine five."

**

Afterward, Peter unloads a large duffle bag full of books in the common area and grins.

"I have to do a report for Mid-Century American History," he says. "Who wants to help me pick a subject?"

Bruce looks up from his paper and inspects the pile of books. "Those," he says slowly, "are all about Captain America."

Steve knows he's supposed to be annoyed, but to be honest, he likes Peter too much. "That one is nonsense," he says, pointing at a dark green hardcover that's half under the coffee table. "Ms. Hill loaned me that one. I hate it."

Bucky picks it up immediately.

"Gimme one, gimme one." Clint does an unnecessary dive-roll over the couch to snatch the one Natasha is reaching for. " _The Birth and Death of America Personified_. Oh my God."

Natasha grins. "Didn't you all have to read this stuff in school?"  _You Americans,_  she doesn't say.

Peter shrugs. "Not  _all_  of them. Jeez, that'd be like reading all the books on George Washington."

" _Please_  tell me there are still more books on Washington than on me." Steve elects to monitor but not participate, pulling out a tablet instead and looking up the baseball scores.

"Probably," Peter says. "But, and tell me if I can't joke about this, all the really controversial ones that got boycotted because they theorized you and Sergeant Barnes might've been a thing?  _Way_  funnier now."

"'Been a thing?'" Bucky squints at Peter.

"It means, um, been a couple."

"Ah." Bucky flips idly through the table of contents, no doubt looking for the one with the most ridiculous name. "Did any of them mention that the super-serum didn't fix his snoring?  _Ow!_ " Bucky rubs his leg and shoots Steve a wounded expression.

"Well, either way, if you two decide to ever, like, come all the way out, there's gonna be some academics punching the air." Peter smirks.

"Uh-huh. Which ones are the banned ones?" Bucky points to the pile. Peter points to one, and Bucky immediately tosses his current book away to snatch up that one.

"I hope that one day you're all famous enough to have your lives scrutinized and misinterpreted," Steve murmurs, and Natasha pats his knee soothingly, perching next to him on the couch.

"'Philips and Erskine were not shy about sharing their opinions on Rogers with each other,'" Natasha quotes. "'This came to something of a head one day during basic training, when Colonel Phillips emphasized a statement about the war being won with guts by throwing a dummy grenade into the group of training prospects.'"

Bucky frowns, listening, and something clicks in Steve's head. "Nat, you don't need to read that particular-"

Nat tilts her head up higher, holding the book (intentionally) further out of Steve's reach. "'All first-hand accounts agree on the result. While the other trainees scattered in all directions upon hearing the word 'grenade' being shouted by their CO, Rogers threw himself on-'"

"Nat!"

"'- _on the grenade he could only assume was live_ ,'" Nat says, raising her voice a bit but otherwise not acknowledging him. "'Having beat Carter to it, he curled up tightly, waving for her and the others to get further away from the danger.'"

" _Steven Rogers!?_ "

Steve winces a little from the sound of Bucky's voice, risking a glance over and not liking what he finds. Bucky looks livid.

"Shit," Clint mutters, and gets up to disappear into the kitchen.

"You threw yourself on a  _live fucking grenade?_ "

" _No_ ," Steve enunciates clearly, holding a hand up. "It was a dummy grenade."

" _Did you psychically know that?_ "

Steve looks to the room for help, but they're useless. Peter in particular seems to have a 'you fucked up' expression. "How - how can you be mad at something I did over half a century ago?"

"Easily," Bucky sulks. "Can I open any of these books up and find stuff you didn't tell me about when we were in Europe?"

There are sounds of popcorn being made in the kitchen.

Steve fixes a glare onto Natasha. "I'm sure most of it is very mundane. Natasha seems to have zeroed in on the most ...  _controversial_  chapter."

"I swear it's like the second I'm not around your death wish just multiplies upon itself and-"

"There were people everywhere!"

"Who were  _running_! Like you could've done!"

Peter sits down and begins to type on his tablet. "I'm working this into my report somehow."

**

"I regret that Asgard traditions mean that I only know how to hunt food and not prepare it," Thor says as he pokes his head in the kitchen. "I used to suspect that womenfolk had a specific ability for making food that smelled so alluring, and yet Bruce is again disproving that notion."

Bruce smirks. "It's just butter chicken."

"Is 'butter chicken' from the lands of India?"

"More or less, yes."

"As I suspected." Thor beams and comes back to the dining room, looking down to smile at Jane. "We will feast very well tonight."

Janet looks up as Peter comes in with a precariously-balanced casserole tin. "Are you Peter? Hi!"

"H-Hi," Peter says, letting Darcy take the tin out of his hands so he can go shake her hand. "You're Sam's girlfriend, right?"

She goes a little pink in the cheeks as she nods. "Sam's told me all about you! You two go crime-fighting on the days you don't have classes."

"New York City is just a little safer on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and alternate Fridays."

Janet giggles. "It's nice to meet you." She looks around, checking for what Steve thinks is the second time for Bucky. He hasn't shown yet, and Steve suspects that poor Janet is just anxious to get a quick 'hi' over with so she can demonstrate that she has no problems with him. She seems to be a perky kind of person who's understandably overwhelmed by all the personalities in the room. (The 'god of thunder' would be enough. Or a so-called 'national icon'. Or the CEO and former CEO of one of the biggest Fortune 500s. Or, hell, any of them, really.)

"So, Janet, I heard something about you bringing dessert?" Steve tilts his head.

She smiles. "It's already in the fridge."

"Peter!" Steve barks, because he can hear the immediate sound of the fridge door opening. "Sorry." He smiles. "I'm sure it's great."

"Yes," Thor says, ever reliable for cheerful banter, "I look forward to another participant in our traditional gatherings. Especially another who can contribute as I cannot."

"I'm sure you could, um." Janet grins. "Hunt something in Asgard and bring it back?"

Thor looks a little crestfallen. "I have offered, but alas. Jane has very strong opinions about the risks of ecosystem contamination."

Jane manages to overhear this from the common room. "Boars have ticks and ticks breed! We don't need a xenospecies coming in and upsetting what's already a very precarious balance!"

Thor lifts his eyebrows gently as if to say, 'That says it all.'

"Natasha and I never cook anything, and we get by." Clint grins and gets the end of the table opposite Sam, pulling it apart to add what was really an inevitable extra leaf. The table grows. "We bring booze sometimes. Thor, don't they have ale or whatever in Asgard?"

"They do, friend Hawkeye, but I fear only the Captain, Bucky and myself would be able to partake in it without risking our health." Thor looks over the crowd, then to the common room. "Where  _is_  Bucky?"

"He's coming," Steve says mildly. "And Thor, remember I can hardly put a baked potato together, so you're really not alone. I've found that complimenting the cooks, plural, ensures you get fed next time around."

Darcy emerges from the kitchen and starts arranging plates. "I bake, but I suck at it," she chirps.

"Your baking is just fine," Bruce calls from the kitchen. Steve pretends not to notice the little smile on Darcy's face.

"Those fudge brownies you did were good," Peter says. "I felt like I had a food baby for the rest of the day," he pats his stomach, "but the first trimester pangs were worth it."

Janet giggles. Bucky slips in from the hallway and joins Jane and Natasha on the couch in the common area. Steve shoots him a grateful smile before turning his attention back to Darcy, who's kneeling down by Peter's stomach and pretending to feel the brownies kick.

**

On Steve's first birthday while working at SHIELD, Tony had sent him a small brown Gund bear. It was wearing a dark blue coat with tiny buttons and a little white wing embroidered on the shoulder.

Natasha joined him at the table, picking it out of the box. "This is really your first time seeing one of these?"

Steve stared at it. "Yes," he said slowly, confused, a maybe a little sick. Its fur was a russet brown, with shiny black eyes and a little black plastic nose.

Natasha 'hopped' it onto his lap. "They made them in the early 40's. They were a limited edition thing for families of wounded warriors, and then they expanded them and sold them in Macy's. The ones in Macy's didn't have the wing, though."

"...why did they do this?"

Natasha shrugged. "Lots of little girls had crushes on him, lots of little boys wanted to grow up and be you. This was their little sidekick, their best friend." There was a pause, and even though Steve stared firmly into the middle distance between himself and the doll, he knew she was examining him, reading him. "People really cared about you guys."

Steve focused on deep breaths. Some of the men from the mission were still filtering out, and seeing your CO cry wasn't good for morale.

Natasha took the bear from his lap, put it back in the box, and closed it. "Tony doesn't always think. He probably wanted to get you something expensive and personal that you couldn't buy for yourself."

She walked away, taking the box with her. They never discussed it again, and Steve never knew what happened to the bear. Steve really appreciated Natasha.


	27. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

_Tony Stark: So we're literally in New York City, surrounded by five star restaurants, and you want to stay in on your birthday?_

_Steve Rogers: Yes._

_Tony Stark: Ughhhhhhhhhhhh_

_Tony Stark: It's the big group and all the attention, right?_

_Tony Stark: At least let me get you reservations for you and Bucky somewhere. Has he had sushi?_

_Steve Rogers: How about a steakhouse?_

_Tony Stark: YES. Get into it. Pick a thing. I am ON this._

**

"Oh wow, these have some serious weight to them." Steve sets the wrapping aside, picking one knife out of the box and weighing it in his hand, flicking it in one fluid motion as if to throw it into the wall across the room. "They're sturdy."

"Most throwing knives top out about six ounces before that weight," Clint says smugly, "because most people throwing them aren't super-serumed enough to throw 'em hard enough without using their whole arm."

Natasha mock-gasps. "You commissioned them from that guy in Taiwan," she says, smacking his arm.

"He's good," Clint says. Steve shoots him a grateful smile and sets them aside, aware that Darcy is nearly vibrating in her desire to present him with his next gift.

"Okay," she says, giving a preface before he has a chance to get through the tissue paper. (Steve shares a quick glance with Bucky; 'Remember when we were poor and wouldn't even wrap things?' 'Yes, I do.') "So I wasn't, like, a billion percent sure what you'd want? But."

"I'm sure it's great," Steve assures her, peering in to look at the marbled looking multicolored spheres. "It's... soap?"

"They're called bath bombs, and they're  _awesome_. Those ones have epsom salts and stuff for your muscles. And they smell all piney and manly instead of, like..." She gestures.

"The stuff that makes you smell like a cookie?" Peter provides smugly.

"What's wrong with smelling like a cookie? What about the smell of a cookie is bad?"

"Thanks, Darcy."

"No probsies; hippo birdies."

Steve gives Darcy a flat look until she rolls her eyes. "No  _problem_. Happy birthday."

Jane comes forward, pulling a light blue gift bag from under the table. "This is from both of us," she says, gesturing to Thor, who nods. The sparkly pom-pom on his party hat bobbles as he does so. "It's an Asgardian thing."

Steve pulls the small, rounded stone from the little box and examines it. "A river stone?" He guesses. But it feels... strange, sort of like the tingling feeling he gets when Mjolnir is within a few feet. "Is it magic?"

"It is a healing stone," Thor intones. "Crush it over a wound to mend it."

Bucky rifles through the pile of gifts to hold up the little gadget Peter made for Steve's utility pockets; quick-application 'webs' that would cover a deep gash so he could stop the bleeding and keep fighting in a pinch. "I like that everyone's cottoned on to how bad you are at taking care of yourself," he muses, and dodges the well-meaning punch to his arm.

"Thank you both," Steve says to Thor and Jane. "This is very thoughtful."

"You are very welcome, Captain."

"Me next!" Janet pulls out a package with rounded edges and corners - it looks like it might be an extra large tupperware container. Steve takes it gratefully.

"Janet, you didn't have to."

"Did," she chirps. "Although, it was Sam's idea, so I didn't even have to pick out what to get you, I just had to put it together. Super easy! I hate picking out presents for people I don't know very well yet, I always end up second-guessing..." Steve tears delicately at one edge of the blue paper, revealing what is indeed a tupperware container.

"Something homemade?" Bucky guesses, leaning forward. It's something they've both mentioned they especially enjoy about family dinners, since neither of them ever learned to cook much but always loved what their mothers made for them. Maybe Sam mentioned it to Janet...

Steve tugs the lid off and is looking at a bunch of bananas.

"Uh," Clint looks over Steve's shoulder, then at Janet, who's blushing in nervousness. "Inside joke?"

"No way," Steve says, and looks at Sam, who nods. Bucky scoots closer on the couch to look and frown.

"She's got that bio sciencey thing down," Sam says, and throws his arm proudly around Janet's shoulders.

"I don't know if they'll taste  _exactly_  the same?" She bites her lip. "Gros Michels aren't commercially available anymore, but they do, y'know, exist. Pepper helped me get a few through customs, and then I bred them to fruit more often and thrive in room-temperature conditions..." Janet looks around the room full of confused expressions and smiles shyly. "Fusarium oxysporum killed off most of the kind of bananas we used to eat back in their day," she explains. "I made some new ones that can grow like houseplants."

"Ohhh," Peter says, and then, "Cool."

"I was  _wondering_  what that setup was next to the super-booze," Tony ruminates. "I thought it was some Bruce thing."

"It's just plant light and a hydroponic setup," Janet says to Bruce. "The little tree behaves more or less like a succulent, it should be really easy to manage."

"My thumb's not very green, but I bet I can handle that." Bruce is grinning.

Steve is already peeling one, passing the box over to Bucky so he can try one as well. "Janet, that was really kind of you. It must've taken ages."

"Oh, not at all." She smiles. "Cavendishes have most of the resistances it needed, so you just borrow those, and... it's not important. Enjoy!"

"You're already doing stuff in my labs and demonstrating competence in your field. Why don't you work for me yet?" Tony winces as Pepper whacks him discreetly upside the head. "Sorry! Never mind! No work talk! Ow. Jeez. Unnecessary force."

"S'good," Bucky says around a mouthful. "Steve, s'this why you didn't want me to eat those other ones?"

"Modern bananas are terrible," Steve answers earnestly.

"Okay!" Tony claps his hands. "Who hasn't gone? Natasha?" Tony lifts an eyebrow. "No love for your old coworker? Not even a card?"

"My gift's coming later," Natasha replies, and reaches over to the tray of red-white-and-blue swirled cupcakes that Darcy and Peter made. "Are these from scratch?"

"Yes," Peter enthuses, grinning proudly at Darcy. "We made the cupcakes  _and_  the frosting."

"Which is why the frosting is kinda thick," Darcy mumbles, looking away guiltily. "Consistency is not my forte."

"Better thick than watery," Peter assures her, half a cupcake already stuffed into one corner of his mouth. "Have you ever had watery frosting? The kind that just slides off the cake all sad and drippy?"

"The worst," Sam agrees solemnly. "Now pass one over."

Bucky intercepts the cupcake that's being handed to Steve. "Save 'em for dessert," he says, smiling wryly. "We're going out to eat."

"What? Oh! The steak, I almost forgot." Steve gets to his feet, starting to pack up the boxes and gifts that are littered around the floor. "Thanks, everyone, this was all very thoughtful."

"Happy birthday," the room singsongs not-quite at once. Steve smiles and lets Bucky herd him into the elevator.

**

"You've got the directions?"

"Yeah, and a cab reserved. Tony said limo, I said no." Bucky helps Steve drop the gifts onto the desk to be put away later, then starts stripping down to change. Steve gets caught watching, and Bucky grins, pointing to the bathroom. "Your outfit's in there. Go on, scoot."

"You picked out my... fine, okay." Steve laughs and does as he's told, shutting the bathroom door behind him and looking at the hangers on the towel rack. A pressed white shirt and one of the nicer bespoke suits Tony had made for him early on. It's a navy blue linen, with subtle silver cufflinks and a tie that must have cost a small fortune. The kind of outfit he thought he'd never have a reason to wear in his life.

Steve checks his hair one last time in the mirror before stepping out, halting in place as he watches Bucky do the last buttons on his waistcoat. Tony must have had this made for him, because it's  _definitely_  new - not cut entirely different than his, but charcoal black, perfectly fitted. The tie is a rich purple with white stripes.

Bucky's grin is crooked. "You always liked when I cleaned up," he murmurs, sauntering forward a little and using Steve's collar as an excuse to brush his fingers near Steve's throat. "Decent birthday present?"

Steve takes a shaky breath. "Definitely. Um," he says in a failed attempt at a casual tone, "how long before that cab?"

"Not as long as you want," Bucky quips. "You can unwrap me later. C'mon, let's get downstairs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Steve's outfit](http://tlo-website.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Chris-Evans-Captain-America-Winter-Soldier-Gucci-Tom-Lorenzo-Site-TLO-1.jpg) (minus the beard and pocket square)
> 
> [Bucky's outfit](http://stylerumor.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/tommy-hilfiger-25-anniversary-party-Sebastian-Stan.jpg)
> 
> Thanks as always for your love in your comments and in your [asks](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/ask).


	28. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

The restaurant is impressive, and the private dining room is a nice touch. The waiters have a professionally unphased expression that Steve thinks is somewhat reminiscent of SHIELD trainees; they know they aren't supposed to be impressed or starstruck, so they aim for 'bored'.

The steak and mashed potatoes are really, really delicious.

"Tony picked a good place," Bucky says. He's already loosened his tie, leaning one elbow on the table as he reaches for the wine bottle to refill his glass.

"I'm going to have to carry you home, aren't I?" Steve grins over his fork and Bucky responds with a sly grin, pouring with more emphasis before putting the bottle back on the table, mostly empty.

"Because of the two of us?  _I've_  always been the lightweight." Bucky blinks as if just remembering something. "Which reminds me. All those wine bottle studies you did..."

"Hmm?"

"The sketches, for school."

"Oh, yeah." Steve laughs. "You know, they're right when they say you can get better from drawing the same thing over and over, but it does start to feel a little bit like madness."

Bucky smirks. "Did you  _really_  have a 'male body study' assignment right after?"

Steve, who's gone back to the steak, looks up and blinks. "What? Oh. Yeah, I did actually." He laughs. "You thought I was just conning you into sitting for me in your undershirt?"

"'Hold still, Bucky, I gotta get your shoulders right.'" Bucky smirks, looking at Steve's cheeks; they're probably bright red. Steve ducks away a little.

"Nah, I wouldn't do that.  _You_ , though." Steve reflects back, trying to see if there's anything suspect in their shared past now that he has the 20/20 hindsight. "That time you offered to guard me while I bathed in that riv-"

"I did  _not_  look!"

"But you  _wanted_  to." Steve smiles, victorious.

Bucky snorts. "Hard not to stare when your best friend's tripled in size." He looks down at his plate, then up at Steve through his lashes. "Yeah, I wanted to." 

**

"Don't  _rip_ it, I've-" Bucky chuckles against his neck, squirming, trying to get away only far enough to work his suit jacket off his shoulders. "I've only got the one."

Steve makes an impatient sound and runs his hands up and down Bucky's sides; something about the fabric of the vest makes his skin prickle and he leans in, capturing Bucky's mouth again. Bucky makes a cut-off sound when Steve's teeth capture his lower lip and draw it out.

"Are you this rough with all your birthday presents?"

"Only the ones I really like."

Lust flares in Bucky's eyes, and he pushes in, brushing his hips against Steve's. "Well, you get to play with it all night," he says quietly. "However you want."

Steve growls and pulls him in for another kiss, tasting red wine. Bucky opens his mouth for it, lets Steve's tongue explore, but gets impatient before long and starts fiddling with Steve's zipper, pulling him out and stroking. It's almost too good; Steve slides one hand up and holds Bucky's jaw open, firm and pressing, and Bucky makes a quiet moaning sound in response. A yes. Steve draws Bucky's lip out once more before letting him go and moving his hand to Bucky's shoulder, gently nudging him down. Bucky's breath hitches as he moves to his knees, and Steve feels himself twitch.

"So fucking beautiful," Bucky murmurs, and plants both hands on Steve's hips, thumbs digging into the linen material covering his hipbones before diving in and sucking in as much as he can. Steve doesn't bother trying to hide the groan, the way his body bows out to meet the warm slick heat of Bucky's mouth. He's not going to last very long like this, after all the dark glances in the cab and now -

"Oh  _God-_ "

Bucky is fucking his mouth down onto Steve's cock, breathing in heavily through his nose so he doesn't have to stop. The stretched red lips and slightly hollowed cheeks are too good to look away from. When Steve feels Bucky's hands tugging his hips forward, encouraging him to move, he doesn't even try to resist. There's a moment where he hits the back of Bucky's throat wrong, and Bucky coughs and pulls off, stroking him roughly while he catches his breath, but he somehow manages to increase his efforts as if to apologize for the lost moment, fingers digging marks into Steve's hipbones and moaning when Steve finally buries his fingers in Bucky's hair. When he tangles his fingers and tugs a little, Bucky moans louder, muffled, and pulls back just enough to focus on sucking the head of Steve's cock, tongue everywhere. Steve finally gives in and comes hard.

Bucky manages to smile with his mouth full, swallowing him down and stroking Steve's thighs and sides, up and down, as far as he can reach from his position. Steve pants heavily and waits for Bucky to rise to his feet, claiming his kiss for a job well done. Bucky makes a surprised but amused sound when Steve pushes him against the wall, practically leaning on him for balance while the world stops tilting around him. The taste of wine is gone, replaced with sweat and sticky heat. Steve can feel the smirk against his mouth.

"You're getting really good at that," Steve murmurs, moving to tongue the shell of Bucky's ear in the way that makes him shake.

"Yeah?" Bucky laughs breathlessly and rolls his hips forward. "You gonna show me what you're good at?"

_Yes. As often as you'll let me._ "Pants off." Steve forces himself to pull away, grabbing the bottle off the nightstand and coming back to see Bucky stripping down only as instructed, shoes and socks, slacks, then boxers, after getting Steve's nod of approval. The directions are making Bucky's face redden with pleasure, and Steve gets a vicarious rush from it, moving forward to bat Bucky's hands away from the buttons of his waistcoat when they drift there questioningly. "That's fine where it is."

"You  _really_  like me cleaned up."

"And filthy. All versions." Steve grins and slides his hands down Bucky's back, grabbing his ass and hauling him up until he's held up against the wall with Steve's left arm supporting him. Bucky shifts until his legs are wrapped tightly around Steve's waist, cock grinding needily against Steve's shirt front.

"We're gonna make a mess of these clothes." He doesn't sound like he really cares.

"We've just started." Steve brushes his nose against Bucky's. "Gimme your right hand."

Bucky does, and licks his lips as he watches Steve pour a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. "And what'm I supposed to do with this?"

"I think you can figure something out." Steve holds Bucky's gaze as the other man reaches behind himself, curling his fingers as deep as he can get them and squeezing his legs tighter around Steve's middle when the feeling becomes too much. "What're you rushing for?"

"It's your birthday, but I don't see why that means I gotta  _be patient_  when you're about to fuck me up against the - oh, fuck -" Bucky bites his lower lip hard, head tipping back as he gets a rhythm going. Steve looks down between them, just barely able to see the drops of precome that are starting to stain his shirt.

" _Bucky_."

"'Sides, if I give you a good enough show, maybe you'll get it up a little faster..."

They don't really need to worry about that, and soon enough he can feel the tip of his erection budging insistently against Bucky's ass. Bucky's brought out of his distracted expression, now happy and mischievous, using his legs to angle Steve just a little closer for a kiss as he finishes working himself open.

"Gimme some more slick," he whispers into Steve's mouth. Steve does, and Bucky and twists a little in his arms, leaning down just far enough to grab the head of Steve's cock and begin coating it. Steve hisses in appreciation and hoists Bucky closer, leaning in to sink his teeth into the tendons in Bucky's throat. " _Shit_." Bucky arches and adjusts his grip on Steve's erection, trying to press him against his opening, but Steve just lifts him higher, just out of reach, ignoring the indignant growl. "C'mon, Steve, give it to me already."

"Soon. Taking my time." Steve holds him up with his left arm, slipping his right hand between them and curling his fingers around Bucky's cock. Bucky whines and does his best to move into the touch, but he's got no leverage. He's leaking already, and when Steve starts pumping his hand, both of Bucky's hands fly out to brace against the wall, mouth falling open. "That's it, Buck. I wanna see you ruin my shirt."

" _Fuck_." Bucky squirms in his grip, shirt rumpling further as he scrabbles against the wall as if searching for purchase, giving Steve a surprised stare when he realizes that Steve's set on making him come  _now_. Steve wets his lips and keeps on pumping, watching Bucky's face for the signs; when his breathing hitches and he spills over Steve's fingers, Steve has to use every bit of his willpower not to join him. Bucky groans as he comes, drawn-out and wanton, finally dropping his head against Steve's shoulder and gasping for air. Steve strokes him through the aftershocks, only letting go of his erection when he's sure he's milked out everything he can.

When Bucky's breathing has more or less evened out, Steve grips Bucky's ass in both hands again, positioning him over his cock. "Oh, Jesus." Bucky laughs brokenly. "God, Stevie, you're the  _wo-_ " His sentence is cut off as his mouth falls open again, brows coming together this time at the sudden stretching feeling, and Steve is glad for every bit of strength the serum has given him, because he can lower Bucky down as slow as he wants to, no shaking, smooth as anything.

Bucky feels tight and warm but relaxed, just enough, the orgasm having done a bit of Steve's work for him and giving him an easier time getting in. Steve pushes bit by bit and Bucky's thighs flex at his sides, heels digging into the small of Steve's back as if threatening to move Steve  _for him_  if he doesn't get with the program.

"Slow," Steve repeats softly, and Bucky looks down at him, sweat shining on his forehead and lips bitten raw.

"You better not," Bucky mumbles warningly, and hisses as Steve lifts him up just a few inches and lets gravity help pull him back down. "C' _mon_."

"Getting there." Steve takes a shuddering breath when he's fully seated, fingers digging gentle bruises into Bucky's flesh as he holds him in place. He just needs a moment to feel this, to feel how perfectly they fit together somehow. Then, finally, he can lift Bucky up just enough to fuck into him, slow and steady, drawing out needy moans and one sharp gasp that makes Steve think he might have brushed his prostate. He decides to aim away from it for now, not difficult at this angle, drinking in the sight of Bucky's eyes lidded and mouth open, fucked-out and still hungry for more.

Steve's nothing if not stubborn. He keeps it slow. Bucky finally goes limp and relaxed for a while, taking it easily, before Steve breathes in deeply and slams home. It works: Bucky's eyes fly open and his body tenses up, desire already rising again, shifting in Steve's hands for a better angle. Steve redoubles his efforts and starts pounding harder, angling Bucky so his shoulders are supported against the wall but Steve's taking most of his weight, letting gravity to a lot of work on the downstrokes, and it's not until Bucky's practically shouting that Steve notices his erection's back too, sticky and thick against his stomach. Steve feels his orgasm building in his spine, and starts to aim for Bucky's prostate in earnest, as best he can from their position, and maybe his size does help, because  _there_ , he's brushing against it, making the tendons in Bucky's neck stand out just a bit as he twists and arches and begs him to do it again.

"Close?" Steve gasps, going a little faster.

" _Again_ ," Bucky repeats, hands locking onto Steve's shoulders and trying to get a bit of purchase on him. "Fuck.  _Fuck, Steve_ , I need-" Steve readjusts his grip on Bucky and slams in, and Bucky cries out, nodding, so Steve does it again, again, until Steve can feel Bucky bearing down on him hard, and it doesn't matter that Steve can't hang on anymore because Bucky's coming too.

**

Bucky sleeps curled around Steve again.


	29. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> TW for panic attacks (or at least, something like them.)

In the morning, Steve opens the bedroom door to find a navy blue gift box waiting in the hallway, immaculately wrapped and suspiciously reminiscent of Natasha's last gift.

"I knew she had a present for you," Bucky murmurs under his breath, grinning. "Open it up. I'm curious."

Steve kneels down to retrieve it, weighing it in his hands - very light - and closing the door just in case it's something... personal. He sits the edge of the bed, placing the box in his lap and lifting the lid. Nestled in a generous amount of red tissue paper is a familiar brown bear with a blue jacket.

Steve stares into the box a while, finally reaching in and pulling it out. It's the  _same_  bear. The stitching along the ridges of the ears, the cuffs of the jacket... everything is identical to the one from before.

"She kept it."

"Hmm?" Bucky looks on, finally plucking the bear from his hands and studying it. "It looks like..." He holds it up. "Is this supposed to be me?"

"Yeah. It's you."

"...Steve, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He wipes his face. "I'm really happy, actually."

**

Steve and Bucky accompany Peter, Clint, Sam, and by extension Janet to the junkyard so Peter can practice handling cars. Sam digs up the picnic blanket from last time, arranging it a safe distance away and making sure Janet's comfortable before joining Clint and Peter in the large clearing they've made.

"We should bring Bruce next time," Peter says, crawling on top of a worn-down pickup truck and looking over the piles of wreckage.

"Yeah, the other guy might get a kick out of having a big rumpus room." Sam grins.

"I actually meant he could throw the cars for me so we could pretend they were getting driven, but yeah, that too." Peter tugs his mask on, taking on an overly macho pose and kneeling down to punch the roof of the truck. It dents. "Hulk smash! Hulk smaaaaaaaash!"

"So what's the protocol for these outings? Do we cheerlead or heckle?" Janet pulls something out of her bag that turns out to be, much to Bucky's interest, the leftover peach cobbler from the night before. She grins conspiritorially at him and pulls out several forks.

"A little of both," Steve says, smiling a 'thank you' as she gives him a napkin and puts the tupperware in the middle of the blanket. "Bucky trains Peter in the Tower, but even Tony doesn't have giant disposable cars to throw around for practice."

"I bet he'd get some, if we asked," Bucky says around a mouthful of crust. Steve laughs.

"Probably."

"Well, I think you've done a good job so far. Sam says they've been getting a really good rapport going. The flying, the web-swinging, the... crime-fighting." Janet sighs a little.

Bucky looks up from the dessert with an arched brow. "You don't like the fighting?" He hazards.

"No, that's not it. I'm kinda jealous, actually." She looks between both of their expressions, raising her hands up. "I know, I know, I'm not - I'm not a super-soldier or anything, or from the Air Force, or... whatever happened to Peter... but I don't like sitting by the sidelines, you know? Using my inheritance for good is nice and all, but sometimes I wanna do something more hands-on than writing checks."

"Checks are important," Bucky says earnestly, eyes now on Peter as he uses the overhanging crane to swing around and rip open car doors. Clint and Sam are watching from the top of an old Honda, pointing and discussing.

"Bucky's right. There aren't enough people investing back in the world." Steve thinks about all the extra shifts his mother took to pay for his medicine at the expense of her own health. And, years after that, the extra shifts Bucky took for the same reason.

"Parker!" Bucky calls. "Are you makin' a tower out of the car doors?"

"...maybe?"

"Get back to real work or I'm comin' down there!"

Janet giggles. Steve glances over to give Bucky a look and tell him to go easy on the kid, but Bucky's already looking away, frowning as if trying to will a headache away. Steve feels a nervous tug in the pit of his stomach as he turns back to Janet.

"So, what do you think of the Tower? Now that you've seen Sam's new giant extended family."

"It's awesome." Janet grins and gestures to where Peter's planting his feet into the dirt, pulling compact cars into a messy blockade. Sam is adjusting the straps on his flight suit. "You guys are really great for each other. Is it weird to feel vindicated by that?"

"Because you arranged them all?" Bucky tilts his head.

Janet laughs. "You make it sound like I was the only one in the think tank!"

"If you voted for everyone but Tony, you can tell us. We can keep a secret." Steve puts on his best trustworthy expression, but is snapped out of it when two trucks smash somewhat violently into each other. Steve and Janet look over with curiosity, relaxing as soon as they see it was intentional, but Bucky's on his feet, walking away. "Bucky?"

"Just," He's rubbing his face, heading away from the noise. "Two minutes."

"Okay." Steve fights the urge to get up and follow him. "Want company?"

"No, I'm." He waves his hand back and forth and finally disappears behind a pile of car tires.

Steve stares after him for a while, then down at the picnic blanket. When he finally looks up at Janet, she's giving him a kind little smile.

"He still needs breaks sometimes?"

"Yes." He's grateful that he doesn't need to explain; her face says it very clearly. She knows this life. "Is that..." The curiosity is sudden and overwhelming. "Is that kind of thing why you and Hank...?" 

"No, that's not how it happened at all." She bites her lip and looks the direction that Bucky went. "Hank's illness was, you know... don't take this the wrong way, but you're really lucky. That Bucky lets you in."

Steve feels quite the opposite at the moment, both in that he feels astronomically unfortunate and like Bucky's usually refusing to tell him what's wrong, but that's not the kind of thing you can say - he just nods.

"Hank would pretend he was fine, and would get mad if I tried to help or get him to talk to me, or to anyone." She pushes the remains of the peach crisp around. "And he couldn't handle it all himself; nobody would be able to, you know? And so he'd finally explode in this big ball of stress and yell and shout and then pretend it never happened because he was embarrassed that it did. I, you know. I kind of blamed myself because I thought if I was a better girlfriend, he'd be happier and he wouldn't get so low." She puts the food down, shoulders hunching a little. "Sorry, oversharing."

"No, it's fine. It sounds like you did your best."

"I did! I have to keep reminding myself of that. And, you know, I keep having to remind myself that relationships don't work if everyone isn't trying. To keep the relationship healthy, to keep themselves healthy." She punches the air in a self-deprecating little gesture. "New mantra!"

"Good mantra." Steve's smile fades a moment as he notices something coming closer. "Oh, um. I think you have a visitor."

"Huh?" Janet looks over her shoulder, breaking out into a surprised laugh as a few seagulls hop over. They hunker down and make themselves comfortable about two feet away from where she's sitting, as if to keep her company. "Hi, little guys!"

Steve peers across the clearing to where Sam is standing on a Ford, looking pleased.

**

Five minutes pass. Steve excuses himself from the picnic blanket and enters the maze of tires Bucky disappeared into. The smell of rubber is overwhelming, and as the walls get higher Steve can start to see why Bucky picked this direction; a lot of the sound of crunching metal and gulls overhead is muffled. It's not quiet, but it's close.

Bucky's sitting on the ground, legs crossed and leaning back. His eyes are closed and he looks like he's trying to meditate.

"Can I sit down next to you?"

Bucky nods, so Steve sits down next to him, drawing his legs up a little and waiting. Bucky's taking in intentionally deep, slow breaths, but it doesn't seem to be working. Steve thinks he looks pained, not panicked.

"If something's... triggering you, we can leave."

Bucky shakes his head and wets his lips. "Nothing set it off." He says it bitterly, like it annoys him. Steve waits, and finally, Bucky continues: "Nothing set it off and I was fine yesterday. It just... happens. I hate it."

Steve reaches out, curling his fingers around Bucky's hand and squeezing. "Remembering happens?"

"It." Bucky's eyes are still shut. "It's like being there. Like a piece comes back and then before I can help it I pull the whole damn thing into now, it just, I can't move and the room is so cold and-"

"Hey. Hey." Steve squeezes his hand tighter. "You can move, Buck."

Bucky whines and pulls up into an almost fetal position, expression tight before it disapppears as he bends his head down.

"You can move. You're not there anymore." Steve takes a breath and understands suddenly. "Rubber, right? You smell all this rubber?"

"...yes."

"It smells awful, doesn't it?"

A little brokenly, Bucky laughs. "Yeah."

Steve gets closer, switching what hand is holding Bucky's so he can throw his arm across Bucky's shoulders. "And I'm here. You can feel me. And you can move as much as you want. Nobody else is here but us, and you can move, and. And it smells like disgusting rubber. You're definitely here."


	30. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Zola's face is piggish and pleased. He's saying something that floats past Bucky at first, but it's repeated, over and over, like his brain won't let him move on from this scene until he gets it right:

_We are so pleased to have you back._

For a moment there's a flash of Steve's new strong-jawed face hovering above him, salvation, but it's just a flash. Zola's back and he's older, more bitter, the tests are like revenge now.

 _Your body will not reject the next one. Do not worry. We have access to the very best surgeons... you will be whole again soon_.

It smells like rubber and dirt and Steve. Steve's hand is rubbing heavy circles that feel warm and pleasant on his back and right shoulder. Steve touches him more. The feeling is dull on his left shoulder, his arm. Steve touches him there anyway. Steve asks him to breathe deeply. Rubber and dirt and Steve.

Steve asks if Bucky is ready to get up. Bucky is allowed to say no. He says no. Steve rubs his back more.

His clothes are soft civilian clothes. He's wearing denim jeans. They're comfortable against his skin. Steve asks him to say these things aloud because Rachel says it is a grounding technique. Bucky remembers this. Bucky says everything. The cotton and the denim and his boots and the bouncy rubber against his back and the smell of it in his nose and lungs and the smell of the dirt, the feeling of the sunlight warm on the back of his neck, the smell of Steve and the pressure of Steve holding Bucky. Bucky turns his face into Steve's shoulder and Steve strokes his neck, his head, the spots behind his ears, over and over and over.

2014\. In the distance he hears gulls and voices. Sam Wilson and Clint Barton and Peter Parker. They are talking about inertia and 'crush space'. Bucky listens for a while. Steve keeps stroking his hair and Bucky feels better.

There was a small room and they kept him there. It was dark and cold and he screamed in it. Days.

Bucky gets up and digs his fingers into the old tread. Steve gets up too. Bucky wants to rip apart the wall of tires and throw them, break them somehow. He wants to break things. He doesn't want to break anything. He never wants to hurt anything ever again. He doesn't want to be hurt. He wants this to stop. Steve asks if he can help and Bucky doesn't know. He doesn't answer but Steve doesn't get upset. Steve never gets upset at him. Not really. Bucky moves forward and Steve understands and wraps his arms around him. Steve talks about the dirt under their feet and the sun on their heads and the sound of gulls and the terrible rubber smell and Bucky can believe it. Steve's shirt feels soft under his hands. Bucky can feel the dirt on his fingers, from the tires, from the ground. It's getting on Steve's shirt but Steve doesn't care. Bucky holds him tighter and he holds Bucky tighter.

Steve talks about what a good job Bucky's been doing. He says it over and over and Bucky feels himself melt against Steve a little, letting the words wash over him and settle into his bones. Steve says it more. Different ways. Over and over. The spot behind Bucky's ear. His neck. His spine, up and down. Steve talks. His voice feels good against Bucky's chest, to listen to. The nape of Bucky's neck. Steve's fingers dig in gently and stroke. Bucky makes a sound and that's okay.

Rubber. Sunlight. Gulls. Steve presses his lips against Bucky's cheek and Bucky smiles, because it feels nice.


	31. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))
> 
> ((OLD NOTE: Another 'spicy cheetos' request from my prompts post on Tumblr; if you're interested in seeing some Bruce/Darcy schmoop, [look no further](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/94117206961/buckymfknbarnes-answered-your).))

Steve's mental list of Bucky-related tips:

-When he asks for contact, give it to him. No exceptions.

**

They're about to start dinner when Bucky moves abruptly, ducking out of the conversation between Natasha and Clint to pull out two dining chairs. He sits in one, looking down at the grain of the table, and Steve takes the hint and sits in the other chair. Bucky drops one hand by his side and Steve snatches it up easily, rubbing his thumb into the palm and dragging his nails gently against the wrist, the fingers. It takes a few minutes, but nobody bothers them, an invisible force field around the chairs, and by the time Tony's cut up the pizza and is carrying it out, Bucky can talk again.

**

-Sometimes he needs it but isn't feeling well enough to ask for it. If you suspect this, make a silent offer. Don't make a scene of it.

**

Steve asks Jarvis to turn the wall opposite the bed into a television screen as he did before. Jarvis does, tuning in to some nature documentary about the desert. Steve takes his shoes off and arranges the pillows on the bed so he can sit up to watch, legs spread wide and one throw blanket bunched up to the side. He doesn't say anything about it, just sits and watches.

Bucky finally uncurls from the corner, wordlessly filling the space between Steve's legs and pulling the blanket over himself.

**

-Make sure he eats. He forgets to sometimes if he doesn't accompany you to meals.

**

Bucky's teleconference makes him miss Sam's impromptu takeout party, so Steve eats half his fill of the Chinese food and starts cooking just as Bruce is cleaning up the bags.

He manages to time it pretty well - he puts the grilled cheese sandwiches on the pan just as Bucky's due to finish. He knows Bucky will go to the bedroom first, looking for him, and will come to the common room/dining area next.

The sandwiches are almost melted by the time he comes in.

"Hi," he says, shuffling in with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are a little downcast but still focused on the pan. "Two?"

"One's for you," Steve assures him. "C'mere." Bucky moves closer, and Steve uses his free hand to curl around his shoulder. Bucky's tense at first, but it's not long before Bucky huffs out a tired sigh and rests his cheek on Steve's shoulder.

"Smells like ham," he mumbles after a bit of silence.

"Yours has a  _ton_  of ham," Steve whispers confidingly, and feels so, so victorious when Bucky actually grins.

**

-Keep introducing him to new things. They occupy his attention and there's lots of video games on Tony's consoles that aren't violent.

**

"Shhhhhhit, shitshitshitshit."

Peter laughs as Bucky falls off the racetrack; the small goggled man on the floating cloud comes to retrieve him, but Bucky's already in 6th place. Bucky looks like he's considering breaking the controller.

"My car's terrible," he grouses.

"You picked bad wheels, man." Peter's leaning forward, doing something to keep his turtle shell floating behind his car. Darcy, who's been tailgating, explodes.

"'Bad wheels'? How was I supposed to pick good wheels?"

"You press plus during selection, you can see their stats."

"These aren't fast  _or_  high-traction or..." Bucky shoots a glare when Steve's laughter gets louder. "What are they even good for?"

"Underwater," Jane supplies.

"For f-  _you knew too?_ "

**

-Private time together doesn't... always need it to be... like  _that_.

**

" _Fuck_ ," Steve whines, and Bucky chuckles and kisses his inner thigh. "Bucky, c'mon."

"Gettin' there." The tongue travels along his hip, up the shape of the jutting bone there, back down. Steve is hard enough that it's starting to hurt.

"Please?" Steve tries. Bucky hums theatrically as if considering it, and it's Steve's turn to laugh.

**

-When it  _is_  like that, talk.

**

"You feel so good," Steve groans, moving over him, smiling when Bucky's eyes flutter open. "You feel  _incredible_."

Just barely within his field of vision, Steve can see Bucky's forearms flex where they're crossed above Bucky's head; it's the start of that full-body stretch he does when he's pleased. Bucky tips his chin back, exposing his throat, answering without talking. Steve thrusts in again and Bucky's brows come together, concentrating as he bears down on him harder. Steve grunts.

"Again," Steve says, panting. Bucky bites his lip and does it again, squeezing him tightly, and Steve adjusts his grip on Bucky's bicep and angles in deeper. Bucky gasps, bites his lip, eyes going a little glassy as they shut. Steve snaps his hips and Bucky's mouth falls back open, desperate for air, breath hitching when Steve does it again.

"Go on," Steve encourages, because he's found that Bucky loves this, loves to be told: "Come."

**

-Follow his lead.

**

They're at breakfast when Bucky gets up and leaves. Just rises, walks out of the room, doesn't come back.

"That's not the way to the bathroom," Sam observes, and Steve pinches the bridge of his nose.

"He's going back to his room," he explains. He doesn't know what set him off, but the vacant, distant behaviors of the last few hours all piece together. "Give me a second."

_Steve Rogers: Do you want me to come with you?_

Steve sits and stares at his phone for a while, not remembering Sam's in the room until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Are they panic attacks, or...?"

"Not exactly. I know he's talking with his doctor, and they pass, but. This one seems worse than usual."

Steve thinks about it and starts a new message.

_Steve Rogers: Should I go find him?_

_Jarvis: Yes._

The bedroom.

Bucky isn't curled up on the bed, but next to it, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and staring blankly forward. He shifts a little when Steve comes in, present enough to notice that at least, and when Steve shuts the door behind him and kneels down next to him, Bucky ducks his head away.

"Buck, talk to me."

Bucky makes a quiet sound, like a frightened animal.

"Bucky." He reaches out, brushes a hand against his cheek. Bucky flinches at first, but finally leans into it, still refusing eye contact. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm in New York. It's 2014."

"Yes." Steve sits down and presses his forehead to Bucky's. "But your head - where is  _that?_ "

Bucky's eyelids flutter. "I- I don't know."

Steve reaches out with careful, testing motions. Bucky twitches away from his hands at first, coming back to them almost as quickly, as if he'd initially thought he was about to be struck. Steve pulls Bucky into his arms and Bucky melts into him, boneless at first but then tense again, like he can't shake it.

"I want to help you so badly."

"I'm sorry."

"No." Steve presses one hand against Bucky's back and uses the other to stroke his hair, seeking out all the spots he's learned. Bucky breathes in and presses to him more tightly, half in his lap now.

"I'm sorry," he says again, like can't help it.

"It's okay."

"I'm really sorry."

Steve bites his lip and tries to think. He's had a mental list of backup plans in case something like this happened, but now that the moment's here it's like he can't focus on anything but how distressed Bucky is. "Do you want to call Natasha?" he asks finally. Almost immediately, Bucky shakes his head against Steve's shoulder.

" _You._ "

"Okay. Me. As much me as you want." Steve pulls back just enough to press his lips to Bucky's cheek. "Your doctor?"

"No."

"Even if I sat with you?"

Bucky makes a sound like a hiccup. "Not right now, please."

"Okay. Okay. You don't want to talk." Steve feels Bucky shake his head again, and takes a deep breath. "Breathe for me, okay?" Bucky nods just a little, and Steve feels the body in his lap expand and contract, quivering mid-breath as if he has Steve's old lungs. Steve strokes his back and hugs him a little when he stops. "Keep going." Bucky breathes in again. Out. In, very deeply, out. A cough. In, out. "Good. Perfect." Steve starts stroking Bucky's hair again. "Two more."

Bucky nods shifts a little, pulling away just enough that Steve can see his expression; he's focusing as much as he can on steadying his breathing. In, out. In, out. When he's done, he keeps his eyes shut, still, like he's waiting for the next thing.

Maybe he is.

"Good," Steve says, and uses his hand to tug Bucky gently down, head in his lap, to keep stroking. Bucky's still not opening his eyes but he doesn't look so terrified, so out of sorts. Steve keeps petting him, down his neck, his back, the nape of his neck again. Bucky curls a little tighter all of a sudden, face tightening like he's in pain. "What's wrong?"

"I can't..." He winces. "I can't make it go away." Bucky's breath stutters and tears start tracking down his cheeks. He looks ashamed of himself.

"Okay. Okay." Steve strokes his fingertips behind Bucky's ears, down to the base of his skull, back up again. "Okay." He takes a breath. "It's time to get up, alright?"

Bucky looks a little confused, but he sits up instantly, getting to his feet and looking at Steve for the next direction. It's clear - whatever's going on with him, he's in the headspace for this. Steve gets up. "Bathroom. Let's get your clothes off."

Bucky complies and Steve walks after him, taking his shirt off and leaving it on the floor. When Steve goes to the shower and starts the water, Bucky strips. His head tips down. It looks like relief, maybe.

"I'm going to take care of you," Steve says quietly. Bucky doesn't move at first, doesn't respond, but Steve waits and finally Bucky steps closer to be held. Steve wraps his arms around him tightly. The muscles in Bucky's shoulders are bunched and tense, so Steve rubs them. The more he touches, the more Bucky seems to become quiet, calmer, eyes fluttering shut. Finally the room starts to steam, so Steve ushers him into the shower and takes off the rest of his own clothes.

**

Bucky's like a doll under his hands. Turns when he's nudged, tilts his head back into the spray when he's asked to, doesn't move otherwise. He's not relaxed, not really, but he's not as vacant anymore. Steve lathers some soap between his hands and starts to work the muscles between his shoulders.

**

"What'd you say?"

"Don't deserve..." He trails off. "I'm  _b_ \- I've done terrible- I've hurt so many-"

"Shh. No." Steve cups his jaw. "You know that's not how it is."

Bucky's nod means he knows. The tightness around his mouth gives away what he's thinking: 'but it's hard. It's so  _hard_.'


	32. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

One of the biggest 'future' differences between them is that Steve can sleep through phone sounds and Bucky can't.

"Jarvis," Bucky mouths, unable to dislodge the arm slung possessively around his hips without waking Steve up. "Why'd our phones chime?"

"A text from myself, sir," Jarvis says almost inaudibly, "saying that the Pym Project is in effect."

Bucky sneaks one hand up to his face so he can rub the sleep from his eyes. He squints to the window - barely any light coming through. "M'I the only one awake?"

"Presumably, sir. I can only account for Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers and yourself. Ms. Lewis is not on the premises."

"Okay. Okay." The last word comes out loud enough to be a whisper, and Steve murmurs something into his shoulder, pulling him closer - the damn man's like a furnace, all soft skin and sleep-warm, hair stupidly messed up. Bucky allows himself a few seconds of admiration, finally nuzzling in to kiss his temple before pulling away. "Tell 'im I'm gonna go get him something to eat, okay? But I won't be long."

"Yes, sir."

**

It's cold outside, but mostly unpopulated, which makes it a thousand times preferable to doing this run a couple hours later. Bucky gathers up his wits and charms his way into the bakery a little early, buying them out of the first thing out of the oven - bearclaws and cinnamon rolls.

Hulk, when Bucky finally makes it to him, seems to perk up at first sniff.

" **Smell good.** "

"Yeah." Bucky plunks down in one of the bean bag chairs - such weird things - and opens the first bag. Hulk holds out a hand, and Bucky puts three bearclaws into it. "Now, don't - hey!" Hulk's already gulped them down. "Okay. Okay. The  _next_  ones, don't just swallow 'em. They're fresh, they've got glaze, slow down. Appreciate 'em."

Hulk makes a face. " **Hulk want eat.** "

"Yeah, I know the feeling. But there's no race. They'll taste better if you take your time. That's the beauty of good food."

Hulk squints at him a moment, and although nothing is said, it's made clear to Bucky that Hulk's only humoring him because he's such a good guy. Bucky tips the bag into Hulk's hand, revealing several more bearclaws which have already started to stick together, and Hulk smacks his palm to his open mouth, working them around with his tongue a moment before his eyes open up wider.

"Yeah," Bucky says, smirking. "In  _my_  day?  _That_  was our junk food. Pretty good, huh?"

Hulk drops down onto the floor next to Bucky, making the room tremble briefly as he holds out his palm again, swallowing. " **Good. Sweet.** "

They eat in silence for a while, Hulk holding out his palm and Bucky upending half the bag into his hand, rinse, repeat. Bucky finally yawns.

"So, pal, you gonna tell me what got you so worked up before sunrise?"

" **Mmm,** " Hulk says a little evasively, rubbing glaze from his upper lip.

"You know you can talk if you wanna. I flip my lid over things that happened before you were even  _born,_  I'm not gonna judge whatever's eating at you."

And that works, at least a little - Hulk, who's either been getting smarter or been getting calmer, seems to work it out in his head a while before determining that Bucky's either trustworthy enough or fucked up enough to listen to his problems.

" **Other Lady say Hulk not good for Funny Lady.** "

This is new. "Other Lady?"

" **Lady from before Hulk.** "

It takes Bucky a second to work that one out. A lady before - oh, a lady from when there was just Bruce. "What's she worried about? Why's it her business?"

Hulk's face twists in something dangerously close to sadness, and Bucky feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up - maybe this wasn't a good idea. He wanted to help, to be a good friend, but Hulk's emotional outbursts aren't exactly like his. At least, not according to the footage.

" **Other Lady say... sorry, for going away. Say want be friends. Want know about life. Then not _like_  what -**" Hulk's mouth freezes on a B, restarts with an H, like he's not sure. " **Other Lady say Hulk should stay far away. From. People.** "

Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, and Hulk doesn't seem to expect him to say anything. He just looks at his hands, the creases lined with fresh crumbs, taking in deep audible breaths that fill the room.

"She was your girlfriend?" Bucky asks. Hulk doesn't say anything. "She was  _Bruce's_  girlfriend."

Hulk nods.

"She left 'cause of what happened."

Hulk's fingers are curling and uncurling.

" **Other Lady good. Help Hulk calm down. Help Hulk not hurt people. But... after long time, Hulk run and run, and when Hulk get back, Other Lady gone. Couldn't. Stay.** " Hulk's brows knit together. " **Not want Hulk.** "

"Well," Bucky says, making this up as he goes, "I guess that's why you're not with her anymore." He directs it toward the positive: "Darcy likes you just fine, right?"

Hulk's smile is tenuous. " **Funny Lady like Hulk.** "

"Yeah. Funny Lady's got a good head on her shoulders. For all her weird jokes, she's smart, right? Real smart?" Bucky grins as Hulk fidgets in a way that would be better suited to a schoolgirl talking about their crush. "See, you know she is. Don't let this old flame get you down. I don't think she's seen you like we have." Bucky knocks on the strange lavender wall - well, not knocks so much as raps his knuckles, which sink in a little to the weird absorbent gel. "You've clocked a lot of hours in here being you and  _not_  punching anything. Or anyone! Not even Tony. And everyone wants to hit Tony sometimes."

Hulk's laugh is a warm rumble. " **Tony good.** "

"Yeah." Bucky takes in a deep breath, looking down. The fingers on his left hand twitch and spread out. "Tony's real good."

**

When Hulk starts snoring, Bucky turns the volume down to 'low' but leaves the episode playing. He gets up, gathers up the empty paper bags, and heads to the elevator.

"Where to, sir?"

"I dunno. Kitchen."

Bucky puts a sandwich together and thinks about how scared Hulk is - how scared  _Bruce_  is, too, no doubt - of hurting people he loves. He sits at the table, eats, and thinks about how it felt to punch Steve over and over with his left arm. His metal arm. What it felt like to look at the blood and the wounds when they were still slick with river water, when Steve was unconscious and just this side of not breathing.

His plate is empty. Bucky looks at the crumbs on his fingertips and decides to lay down on the couch for a while.

**

Heels clicking. The fridge opens. Bucky sits up and looks across the common room, across the dining room, but he can't see the fridge from where he is. The heels, though, are distinctive.

"Morning," he says groggily.

"Morning," Pepper calls, as if it's not weird at all that he's napping in the common area at - Bucky checks the clock - eight in the morning. "Want to come visit Tony with me?"

"Visit Tony?"

"In the labs," she elaborates. When she emerges from the kitchen, it's with a protein shake and a warm smile.

Something in Bucky untwists a little. "Sure, why?"

"Because some human interaction, combined with Mexican food, will help keep him from losing his mind any more than he already has." Bucky must have some kind of visual reaction to that, because Pepper smiles. "He's fine, he just needs a break from his latest obsession."

"The jet."

"The  _jet_ ," Pepper agrees emphatically. "We'll pick something up from the chefs, then bring him the goods and goad him into a food break and maybe even a nap."

"A woman with a plan." Bucky gets to his feet and smooths out the hoodie and sweatpants. Actually, he thinks, he probably looks like a fucking mess. He kind of booked it when he got up this morning, strapped for time, and he still hasn't shaved, brushed his hair... bless the future for their low standards of how you need to look before going into public. Bless Pepper for pretending not to notice how bad he looks. 

**

The lab is weirdly empty.

Okay, not  _empty_ , but there's no jet, no... whatever there is before a jet, a frame, some huge equipment, maybe a few wheels or engine parts. Tony's seated at a desk with three days of stubble and a 3-D something or other between his hands.

"Brought you tacos," Pepper says in greeting, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder as she drops the bag down beside the hologram.

"Excellent. Maybe you could, like, feed me? I kind of need both hands for this part and, okay, yeah, okay, putting the work down, eating the food. Sorry. Thanks." 

Bucky hides a smile. He really likes Pepper.

"Bucky's come along," Pepper adds, smiling when Tony actually  _looks up_ from what he's doing to notice the third person in the room. "Consider him my back-up if you don't agree to my demands."

"Your demands include sleep, don't they? You are the goddess of my heart but the bane of my productivity. I'm on a  _roll_ , and I took a thirty-minute nap like an hour ago, so I'm grooving, I'm working on wind resistance, I've got the - okay. Okay. Hi, Barnes."

Bucky keeps looking around. "I thought there'd be... y'know, a  _jet_."

"What, in a room smaller than a basketball court?"

Bucky shrugs. "I figured you'd be in some lab I hadn't seen before." He walks closer to the desk. The three-dimensional model in between Tony's hands is... really interesting. "Can you make it bigger?"

"I can make it 1x1 ratio if I wanted to. Which, actually, would be funny, considering that would mean the tail would be poking out somewhere in Bruce's lab on the other end of the building." He stretches his fingers out, and the ship goes from the size of a melon to the size of a car. Bucky steps back, trying to take in all the details. "In a very unlike-me turn of events, I'm focusing on the weapons aspects later. Stealth first. And speed. Wanna be able to get this thing across the pond in under an hour and I wanna do it without waking anybody important up." Tony, noticing that Pepper's nudging the bag closer, finally peeks in it and grins. "Oooh. Fish." He starts to gorge himself.

Bucky's still looking at the hologram. There are... a lot of details. Some spaces look strangely vacant, like the mechanisms haven't been filled in yet around the doors and landing gear, but the engine is like a dense brick of colors and lines.

Pepper tilts her head, seeming to understand a lot more of it than Bucky does. "Are you still going to have Hazuga give input on the med room?" She asks.

"Yes." Tony leans somewhat out of his chair, using the hand holding the taco to 'click' on a room. It expands and rotates slowly. "Whatever she thinks we'll need, we'll stick it in here."

Rooms. Designing. Bucky blinks. "I just remembered something."

"Hmm?" Tony glances over, taking this opportunity to get in another bite of taco. 

"I was thinking, um." Bucky scratches the back of his head. "You know those three floors above us?"

"More R&D?"

"No, I meant - I meant above where we  _live_. The residences, the unfinished-" Bucky trails off as Tony nods in understanding. "Why don't you ever finish 'em? Steve and I are used to living in a shoebox with roaches and no heat, so I mean, we're not  _complaining_  with what we've got, but..." He shrugs. "The tailored ones, they seem almost done. And they're nice."

Tony opens his mouth to respond, but there's a weird pause, like he's not sure what to say. And that's... really strange, for him. Usually in that span of time he'd be able to cram in at least two sentences.

"That's a good idea," Pepper interjects, smiling. "We should put in a new work order and get those finished."

Tony seems surprised. "R-really?" He looks at her.

"Yes," Pepper says smoothly. She gets up, pulling her phone out of her pocket, presumably to start an email.

"With the builders," Tony adds uncertainly. "And the people. In the Tower."

"That's what background checks are for." She taps a few keys, then puts the phone back in her pocket. "We'll get something started next week. Tony: eat, sleep. Bucky: enforce. Please." She waves goodbye to Bucky, and Bucky waves back. She takes her leave, heels clicking down the hallway.

Tony stares after her. Bucky starts to think back to what Jarvis had said about the apartments project stopping after the Mandarin thing. And about how Pepper was when they first started training.

Bucky looks at Tony. Tony seems silently dedicated to not divulging anything about Pepper having, or having had, any kind of emotional ... anything.

"Tacos smell good," Bucky supplies.

"Cumin," Tony says. "Help yourself."

Bucky nods, helps himself to one of the near dozen, and chews a while. Tony doesn't seem to mind the lull in conversation if the eating sounds are any indication. "So. Where  _are_  you going to build it?"

"The jet?" Tony wipes the back of his mouth. "Upstate. Already scouting out a couple good hangars away with an excellent three hundred and sixty degree view of nothingness... Hulk'll help with the initial skeleton work, I'd ask Thor but his schedule's always all 'I know not, friend Tony, I lordeth over all of space and cannot maketh commitments', so I'll probably get Jarvis to put his human suit on again and he'll be heavy lifter number three."

"Sir, I really wish you wouldn't call it that," Jarvis says thinly.

"Sorry. Your  _Iron Man suit_."

Jarvis somehow manages to make silence judgmental.

"So anyway," Tony continues, "I'm scheduling Hulk and  _Viiiiision_ , which is still a dumb name, for at least a few days to lug stuff around. I figure Hawkeye can sit in the rafters and keep the area secure while we focus on building shit."

Bucky squints. "When're you gonna stop benching Steve because of me?"

"Excuse wha?"

"He's got super strength. We both do. We'd help."

"There's serum strength and then there's  _Hulk_. I'm not  _benching_  Steve; Jesus, have you  _met_  Natasha? I barely even run my own smart house anymore, don't think for a second I really run this team." Tony peers at him. "You still feel all weird because Steve didn't go to Europe earlier, don't you?'

Bucky shrugs and takes a few bites of his food, but he has a feeling it's not very convincing.

"Listen. I didn't go either, and I  _don't_  have an emotionally healing boyfriend that needs looking after. The Avengers is a team that believes in cross-training. We don't fail just because one guy's not there." Tony leans back and pulls out another taco. "Steve got really pissed at - he told you, right? About the suit?"

"Suit?" Bucky frowns, thinks back, and remembers in a flash - the  _suit_ , the one Steve discovered Tony had made for him. "In the Ready Room."

"Yeah." Tony gets the last of the juice from his fingers before rummaging in the bag for a napkin. "You've been doing more of your 'quiet and twitchy' schtick lately, but Pepper insists your doctor is the hand-picked doctor to end all doctors, and you have still managed to go postal on exactly zero people. Training sessions notwithstanding. Those are supposed to be punchy." He wipes his hands clean, shrinking the hologram down and moving it into a 'folder' that appears above his head as if to save it for later. "I can't speak for how Steve feels about you, but I know I've gone into the field way shakier than you are right now. Including but not limited to 'drunk', 'traumatized', and 'with dangerously inflated ego'. If I  _did_  run this circus, I wouldn't bench Steve to keep him with you. I'd have both of you out there. Why the fuck not."

Bucky blinks at him. Tony gets up, stretches, and nudges the bag closer to him. "Finish 'em off for me, okay? I'm gonna go get some shut-eye, because I know you'll tattle on me if I don't."


	33. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

_Steve Rogers: Janet and Sam are inviting us to go to a pet store with them, do you want to go?_

_Bucky Barnes: A pet store with birds?_

_Steve Rogers: Yes, that's why we're going_

_Bucky Barnes: FUCK YES I WANNA GO_

Sam blinks. "What's so funny?"

Steve just laughs harder.

**

"So what are those?" Steve asks, looking at the print-outs Janet's holding in the passenger seat.

"Well, Sam helped raise pigeons when he was little, and we've seen him 'talk' to pigeons, so I thought, maybe we can see if there's a correlation between the birds' genetic similarities to pigeons and how responsive they are to Sam's influence." She holds up a page that has a picture at the top. A parakeet, maybe? "But actually, I'm  _really_  curious about the parrots, since their intelligence has been proven to be phenomenal, and their lifespans rival ours."

"Capsicles notwithstanding," Sam adds, eyes still on the road.

Steve rolls his eyes. Of course Tony would have made sure that nickname got around. "You know, Sam, it's not too late to change your codename."

"No."

Bucky's smile goes crooked. "'Pigeon' has a good ring to it, I mean-"

" _No._ "

Janet's giggling. "We could repaint your wings! Some nice greys and whites."

Sam waits until the red light to side-eye her. "You're taking their side?"

**

Just like Sam described, there's an element of chaos in the store - unlike other modern businesses, dogs appear to be allowed in as long as they're leashed, and some of them are getting into barking matches or straining to get closer to the wall of cats available for adoption. Steve hangs back with Bucky for a while to make sure he's handling it okay.

"Stores are fucking huge these days," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"They're not all like this," Steve reports quietly. "But when they are... it's... definitely overwhelming."

"Oh, look."

Steve looks where Bucky's pointing. Sam and Janet have gotten sidetracked from their beeline to the bird display, Sam's hand coming up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. What neither of them seem to see is that the birds have already noticed them, or more specifically  _Sam_. As if magnetized, they have all scooted as close as possible without falling off their perches.

"It really is weird," Bucky says. "Whaddaya think would've happened if one of us drank that stuff?"

"The drink Pym made? God, I don't know. We'd get alley cats, probably." Steve laughs. "Let's go see what they wanna do."

**

They don't have any parrots in stock, which Janet is really disappointed about, but they do have parakeets, finches, and cockatiels. Neither Steve nor Bucky have ever seen the more exotic ones in person before, and ask Sam to have them display their wings a few times so they can admire. The birds seem happy to oblige, even doing little side-to-side dances as if showing off.

"I figured out why we were invited," Bucky murmurs after a few minutes, nudging in closer to look as an orange-and-yellow cockatiel dips its head up and down repeatedly as if engaged in an important conversation with Sam.

"Hm?" Janet is recording with her phone for later study.

"With the four of us, we can all crowd the little windows and nobody can see how weird the birds are acting."

"We also, y'know,  _like_  you." Sam rolls his eyes. "No, no I was talking to - yes, I also like you. I just met you, but you seem nice." He shrugs at the bird and kneels down a little lower to continue some strange, silent conversation.

Bucky's grin reaches his eyes. "You should have them sing together," he says, elbowing Sam's side. "Like in the cartoons! Y'know, for science."

**

Apparently nearly every bird in the shop says they'd love to come along with Sam (or, as Bucky is now insisting on calling him, Bird Lord). Janet has something she calls an 'ark plan' she wants to try out, and through polite questioning they manage to figure out the sex of the birds without having to check themselves. Two parakeets, two cockatiels, two finches.

"Okay, first one: how old is male parakeet?" Janet's scribbling on her notepad.

Sam turns to the bird as if to pass on the question, and the bird just... tilts his whole body as if too overwhelmed by confusion to remain upright. "He has no idea what I'm asking him," he says finally. "He..." The bird tilts further. "Okay. Never mind. Never mind. It's okay, dude. Don't worry about it."

Janet sighs and shrugs. "Shoulda seen that coming."

**

Janet drives on the way back. Sam sits in the back with Steve, lap full and shoulders covered in inquisitive birds.

"I have a really weird life," Sam remarks at a red light, as one of the parakeets starts grooming him.

**

Sam and Janet go to his room to start setting up the cages and other equipment. Bucky heads to the bedroom, wanting to decompress after all the noise and an early morning with the Hulk. It doesn't take much coaxing to get him into a late afternoon nap.

**

Dinner is busy. There are about three simultaneous conversations going and the table hasn't even been set yet.

"What's the hangar thing they're talking about?" Steve asks, looking over Bucky's shoulder at the pot he's been instructed to keep an eye on. The small tomatoes on top are starting to prune, or go soft, or something, but apparently that's intentional.

"Tony's assembling the jet soon, so he's gonna get Jarvis and Hulk to help with the heavy parts. And then Clint and Natasha are gonna hang out and make sure the area stays secure."

"Where's all this happening?"

"Somewhere upstate. Apparently it's just as empty out there as it was when we were kids." Bucky uses a fork to gently prod at one of the baby tomato things, and it squishes under the pressure. "I'm supposed to do that," he reassures Steve.

Maybe it's going to be sauce. Janet hasn't shared the details. "Well, it should be quieter around here for a few days at least."

Far off, there's the swish of elevator doors opening. " _Homemade brownieeeeeees!_ " Peter is singsonging.

Bucky arches a brow. "Yeah, I don't think we're losing the really noisy ones."

**

Janet's spaghetti and meatballs recipe turns out to involve a lot of incredibly fresh basil and something called gastronomy, which Bucky insists (and Steve silently agrees) sounds absolutely filthy. The food, however, is delicious, and Sam has a sort of 'I can't believe my life' smile that refuses to go away. Bruce's garlic bread is disappearing fast.

"So other than recent PetCo runs, what've you been up to, van Dyne?" Tony says it in a way that makes Steve suspect it's a ploy to open up the discussion to science. Then Tony can point out that she should do it nearby, where he can stick his nose in it.

"Studying deer," she chirps, and laughs when the entire table looks up to give her a curious look. "Um, their antlers are really interesting. You know, they're very durable, but shed with the seasons, and then regrow them. There's a layer of cells called osteoclasts, and that's sort of the separating line between the skull and what sheds, and what  _usually_  sets off the growing or shedding is a rise or decrease in testosterone, but I'm hoping to find a different way to instigate the..." She glances around. "Someone else go. I'm starting to feel like the weirdo."

"We've been looking into ways to stabilize a synthetic rainbow bridge," Darcy says helpfully. "And I'm pretty sure that sounds weirder."

"It does," Clint agrees, twirling a somewhat ridiculous amount of pasta around his fork.

"You should take me flying sometime," Janet tells Sam all of a sudden.

"What, like carrying you underneath me? Sure. But I make no promises about not singing Aladdin songs."

Bucky bolts upright in his chair, pointing. " _I understood that reference._ " He looks over at Tony. "What? What's so funny?"

Tony's face is buried in his forearm, shaking in laughter, free hand stretched out and pointing accusingly at Steve.

"Ignore him," Steve says primly, and moves the ever-shrinking plate of garlic bread further away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((OLD NOTE: Janet's pasta sauce recipe, more or less: http://www.macheesmo.com/2010/09/simple-cherry-tomato-pasta/
> 
> Janet's meatball recipe: a glorious scientific mystery.))


	34. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Mass text.

_Bucky Barnes: Training canceled today._

Steve looks at his phone, alarmed, then gets off the couch to check the bedroom. Bucky's not there. He waits, but Bucky doesn't come. Is he stuck somewhere in the middle of an episode? He's been more or less immobilized by them before...

Swallowing tightly, Steve looks up. "Jarvis, can you tell me where Bucky is?"

"Sergeant Barnes is in Ms. Romanoff's quarters with Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Parker."

He's gone to Natasha before when he's felt stretched thin. Or worse, inconsolable. "Is he-"

"Sergeant Barnes is stable."

Steve huffs out a grateful breath and jogs out the door. Natasha's room isn't far, but when he lets himself in, the bedroom itself is empty. The bathroom door is open, however, and Steve can see Natasha sitting on the sink, Peter on the lip of the tub, and Bucky hovering over him.

Natasha is doing something on a tablet. Bucky is helping where Peter's covering himself in Neosporin and band-aids all along his left arm. His discarded Spider-Man uniform is crumpled up on the tile floor; it smells like motor oil and has splotches of blood.

"What the hell happened?"

Peter rubs at his face, wincing as he grazes a bruise that's blooming on one cheekbone. "Most of this isn't mine," he says dully. "S'the other guy's."

Natasha doesn't look up from her tablet. "His 'spider sense' went off and he swung down and saved a guy that was about to get hit by a car."

"And it clipped you instead?" Steve can't quite control the risen octave in his voice, shutting the bedroom door behind him and moving closer to get a better look at Peter.

Natasha's voice is icy. " _First_  car missed.  _Second_  car came around the corner and got them both."

Peter looks miserable. "Natasha, can you get it?"

"I'm working on it." She notices Steve's confused expression. "Hospital surveillance. He wants to see if the mark lives."

"The mark. So we're assuming it was a hit?" Steve looks between the three of them; Peter's shrugging like he has no idea, but Bucky's face is grim, and Natasha's eyebrow is lifted just enough to say everything. "Who is he?"

" _Working_  on it," Natasha says again, a little less patiently. Bucky swipes some grime and crusted blood off of Peter's bicep where he can't reach himself. It must sting, because Peter starts flinching, making himself hold still for it, and Bucky's face is wrought with sympathy and discomfort.

"I messed up," Peter mumbles, staring at the floor. "Too slow. He was unconscious when I got him to the hospital. I didn't even have time to check his  _pulse_ , I came right here and I didn't-"

"You had to pop your fucking arm back into its socket," Bucky says sharply. "Getting him help first was more than enough."

"He's probably gonna die."

"You did everything you could," Steve says. He hovers in the doorway, watching them. "Did you give Natasha the plates?"

"What I could remem- ow! Jeez, ow- no, no, if you gotta do it, keep going." Peter shoots an apologetic look over his shoulder at Bucky.

Bucky takes a deep breath. "Jarvis, have HR call his aunt and say Stark Industries called him in for something important. Might be an overnight project."

"Yes, sir."

" _I_  should call her," Peter protests weakly. "I should..."

"Don't make me punch you," Bucky says quietly. "When Steve's this stupid, I punch him."

"He does," Steve agrees mildly. Peter smiles despite himself.

"Found him," Natasha says. "Unconscious, no name yet. He's in surgery."

"Do you have the feed? Let me-" Peter makes a cut off sound as Natasha swats his hand away from her tablet.

"No way I'm letting you sit and watch them stitch up a guy you're still blaming yourself about." Her voice brooks no discussion. "Peter, at some point you have to learn you can't save everyone from everything. Whether this guy lives or dies, it's out of your hands, you did your best. Okay?" Peter hesitates too long, and Natasha raises her voice just a touch. "Peter?"

"Yeah," he says finally.

**

Bucky eventually cajoles Peter into something involving a "flow" - Steve has no idea what this means - and Natasha keeps researching. Steve goes back to his room, and is in the middle of struggling through a still life of the 'Bucky bear' when his phone chimes.

_UNLISTED: It's bad. The first car t-boned a truck with hazardous chemicals. The traffic camera feeds I can access aren't clear, but it looks like this guy got a faceful after he was thrown back by the second car._

_Steve Rogers: And Peter?_

_UNLISTED: Never touched it, t_   _hank god. He might not be as lucky as the first time he encountered radiation._

_Steve Rogers: Do you really believe someone was trying to kill this man?_

_UNLISTED: No question. I got a name. He's an attourney with a big case right now, about to take down some local thugs._

_Steve Rogers: We should put someone on guard for him._

_UNLISTED: Already reaching out to some contacts in NYPD._

**

Steve eventually wanders back into the common area to start perusing takeout menus; Bucky and Peter are on the couch. Peter is wearing a purple t-shirt and sweatpants that Steve is pretty sure Natasha must have pilfered from Clint's room. Bucky's holding a game controller and Peter seems to be directing him toward different points on the screen. When Bucky tilts controller in various directions, the little amoeba thing on the screen moves accordingly. When it eats a smaller amoeba, a note plays.

Steve remembers Peter gave Bucky a list of suggested games and television shows a while back (rated from "Not At All Chill" to "The Absolute Chillest", which Steve can only guess is a scale created specifically for Bucky). This must be from that.

"Either of you want Thai?" Steve asks, breaking the silence.

They both look over their shoulders. Bucky looks fine, but Peter still looks... mopey isn't quite the right word. Maybe depressed.

"Two panang chickens for me," Bucky says, then looks expectantly to Peter, who just shrugs. Bucky frowns and punches him in the good arm.

"Ow! Um. Drunken noodles. Please."

Steve nods and writes it down. By the time it arrives, they've moved on to a Japanese animated show that makes absolutely no sense. Bucky asks a lot of questions, and Peter seems happy to answer them all, getting slightly carried away with it and actually gulping down most of his food while he talks. Steve suspects Bucky's interest in the show is slightly tactical. Bucky's pretty smart like that.

**

"Let's figure out a dinner thing tomorrow night," Bucky says, burrowing under Steve's arm with a stubborn wiggle. Steve fakes a sigh and puts the sketchbook down, resigning himself to at least five minutes of petting.

"Peter was still moping when you handed him off to Natasha?"

"Trying not to mope. Failing. Moping a lot." Bucky shoots him a pointed glance through some loose strands of hair. "I've got a lot of experience with idiots who kick themselves every time they're not perfect, though."

Steve doesn't take the bait, deciding instead to drag his fingernails gently along Bucky's chest. He shivers. "Got a teleconference today?"

"Yeah, not for three hours."

"How're those going?"

Bucky shifts a little, taking a while to answer. Steve wonders if he shouldn't have asked, but when Bucky does finally answer, it's calm enough: "Good. Kinda philosophical recently. You'd do better at it than me, I think."

"Well, in that case I'll spot for you sometime."

Bucky chuckles. "Thanks, pal." He picks up Steve's hand, where it's rubbing idly along his shoulder, and kisses the palm, a few fingertips, finally nipping one gently and smiling when Steve laughs. "Hey, I remember... when we were in that little town outside of Paris..."

"Murat?"

"No, the other one. With the church."

"Hmm. Oh. Arbois."

"Yeah." Bucky worries at his lip. "There was that pack of assholes always coming to the bar and bothering all the dames, the poor widow that ran the place..."

Steve smiles at the memory. "We threw a lot of men into the gutter that night."

Bucky laughs. "Even Monty hauled a guy over his shoulders."

"Oh my God, I'd  _forgotten_  that!"

"It was nice beating Nazi ass up and down Europe, but sometimes..." Bucky's grin gets a little wistful. "Sometimes doing the little stuff felt best, you know? Getting to see that widow actually smile for once."

"Getting to watch those four guys scamper off with their tails between their legs."

"That too. ...do you ever miss that stuff?"

"Of course I do." Something clicks. "Is this about Peter?"

Bucky shrugs. "Before, we were a pack of guys with guns and one super-soldier. Now, we're kitted to the nines and we've got every kind of muscle and spy you could want."

"I know you're protective of that kid, but we can't go in half-cocked. We aren't even sure who's behind this yet. Or why they wanted that guy dead." Steve hides his expression by tugging Bucky into curling up on his chest, stroking his neck and shoulders. This is... new.

Bucky shrugs against his ribs. "Natasha'll find it all out. She's brilliant."

"Yeah, she-" Steve jerks upright as there's a sharp rap on the door. "Yes?"

"Steve, is Bucky in there with you?" It's Pepper.

Bucky gets to his feet, already rooting around for a shirt. "Yeah," he calls. "What is it? Where's the damn fire?"

"Can I come in?"

Steve and Bucky share a confused look at the urgency in her voice. "Yeah," Steve says, and starts fishing through the drawers for a tank top as Pepper opens the door. She's got her game face on.

"We're going to handle this," She says evenly, setting a hand on Bucky's shoulder as soon as he's clothed. "I've already got some people looking into who it was and how much they know."

"Natasha's on it too," Bucky says, head cocked. "She's already IDed the mark."

Pepper looks at him blankly. "The mark?"

"The man they tried to run over," Bucky clarifies.

"Someone tried to run someone over? What are you talking about?"

Steve blinks. "Pepper, what are  _you_  talking about?"

Pepper looks from Bucky to Steve, alarmed and totally confused, before gesturing a screen into being on the far wall. "Jarvis, CNN."

Jarvis obliges. To the upper left of the news anchor is a picture of Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Bucky was playing [flOw](http://www.amazon.com/flOw-Vita-PS4-Digital-Code/dp/B00HAU9HG6/).)


	35. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Natasha is playing video games with Peter when Steve, Bucky, and Pepper come in.

Peter looks up briefly from the screen, rolling his eyes. "I don't need to be  _babysat_ ," he moans, eyebrows knitting together as Natasha does something complicated with several buttons that makes his go-kart slow down and twirl into a wall. "Like, tag-team-babysat? Really?"

"One of the captured Hydra agents rolled on me and now my name's all over the news," Bucky says flatly.

Peter drops his controller. On the screen, the go-kart careens off a brightly colored road and into the void of space.

"Well, fuck." Natasha pulls her phone out and checks something. "I've been ignoring my Google alert emails for the last hour. That's on me."

"I have no idea what that means." Bucky scrubs his face, looking - to Steve's astonishment - more annoyed than scared or angry. "Pepper, tell me what I should be doing right now."

"Relaxing," Pepper answers, "while we handle this. This is what our PR team is for. Most of what's been leaked to the news is incredibly vague speculation - they don't have their hands on any of the actual Hydra files, and most of the footage of you from the DC incident was lost ages ago."

"Hydra destroyed it somehow?" Steve asks, eyebrow arched.

"Presumably," Pepper says smoothly.

Natasha scrolls through something on her tablet. "Every news agency's got a slightly different story so far," she says. "Same core elements. Alive, possibly frozen like Steve was, Hydra agent." More scrolling. "Fox is the only major network not mentioning the possibility of manipulation."

Steve is having a hard time tamping down the fear that's rising in his throat. "Alive," he reiterates. "Why would they assume he's  _still_  alive? Why not assume he died in the helicarrier?"

"Metal arm with vibranium alloys..." Natasha sets her tablet down, gesturing for several windows to come up in the air in front of her as she reads. "Nothing of the sort recovered since the incident. The rest of Bucky could've incinerated, but they'd have found the arm."

Steve glances sideways to see how Bucky's taking the morbid discussion, but he's just leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a few lines etched into his brow. "Little do they know the fucking thing's disassembled in Tony's lab." Bucky murmurs. "Shit. Okay. This was going to happen eventually."

Steve stares at him. " _Was_  it?"

"Isn't it the same as it was when we were ... as it was in the 40's?" Bucky turns to Pepper. "You give the police details on someone higher up the chain, and they lighten your sentence?"

Pepper sighs. "That's probably what happened, yes. We're doing our best to get through the encryption and see if we can get a list of captured suspects, but the government's gone analog."

"Meaning they're not putting any of their information on computers," Steve translates cautiously.

"Right. Pen and paper, typewriters, nothing that can be hacked." Pepper bites her lip. "I'm sure we have access to some of the few people who could get in there and retrieve the physical documents-"

"-some of whom are  _in this room_ ," Natasha points out, and to Steve's surprise, Peter sits up a little straighter, like he's trying to figure out how to get in on this as well.

Pepper nods. "...but I'm not sure that's the best course of action right now. One slip-up and it could look like we're trying to hide something."

"We  _are_  trying to hide something," Steve says. "We're trying to hide  _Bucky_."

"That was never going to work forever," Bucky says. "There were lots of divisions who knew about me. There was no way every last one of them were going to die in a firefight, or escape, or be so stoic they kept their traps shut when they got caught."

"Talking heads wonder if you're in hiding and whether you're still conditioned to obey Hydra," Natasha reports. "Social media's largely on your side. They want you brought in alive and 'deprogrammed'." She looks up at the ceiling. "Jarvis, is Steve getting calls from unrecognized numbers?"

"Dozens simultaneously, madam. All from news agencies. I am screening them."

Pepper sighs deeply. "Bucky, listen. A lot of effort was put into making sure you were never named until now. That means there was never a manhunt, never a call for you to turn yourself in. You aren't a fugitive. Steve never had to file a report for his mission because SHIELD was in no shape to request one."

"What are you saying?" Steve asks.

Pepper looks at him. "I'm saying we could come completely clean and not face charges. Bucky came to you, you both came here, you've been recovering in secret. The outside world has been tearing itself up looking for Hydra plants everywhere from government agencies to newsrooms - your reasons for staying quiet until now would be pretty obvious."

Peter gets off the couch. "So we just... let him go out there and face it all? They'll want to question him!"

"I can handle questions," Bucky says firmly.

Peter scowls. "The investigation could have those  _Hydra plants_  Pepper was just talking about. They found an agent in the DoD like two weeks ago. They're still out there."

Jarvis chimes in. "Call from Mr. Wilson, Ms. Potts."

"Let it through. Sam?"

" _Are you guys alright over there? Janet and I just saw the news and-_ "

"I'm fine," Bucky cuts in. "Pepper's the queen of... whatever you'd call this. Handling shitstorms."

" _Okay. Okay. Can we help?"_

"Waiting for Pepper to tell me what to do," Bucky says, a little wry. "Stay on the line and you can listen in on the plan."

Pepper takes a deep breath. "Okay. First of all, Bucky, you have the final say in all of this. Got it?" She waits for Bucky to nod. "But I'm going to seriously recommend you take my advice on this. I've been planning for this inevitability for several months right now and, yes, Peter, we do need an ace up our sleeves in case this is a trap to lure him out into the public or in case there's still a stray agent out there who'll take this opportunity. First thing: I'm bringing Rachel in."

"Rachel?" Steve echoes.

"Dr. Summers," Bucky clarifies.

" _Rachel fucking Summers!?_ " Janet shouts.

Everyone stops.

" _How does-- how do you guys even KNOW about her?_ " There's a fumbling sound that Steve can only imagine is Janet scrambling to get closer to the phone.

Pepper raises a hand for everyone to be silent. "Janet, Rachel Summers is Bucky's therapist."

" _The? Rachel Summers?_ "

Steve stares at Bucky, who seems unsurprised, and then to Pepper, who's pulling out her Blackberry. "Long story short, Janet, I read your reports a long time ago and got in contact with her. She's still not interested in fieldwork, but when I brought Bucky's situation to her attention she agreed to help." She taps a few buttons. "She's going to have to meet up with us in DC."

Bucky cocks his head. "We're going to DC?"

"No matter how this plays out, we've got to get you in front of this story before it has a chance to get out of our hands. If you're up for it, I say we spend the next 24 hours watching the news cycles and reaching out to every contact I've got on this. Natasha, yours too."

"Of course."

Pepper nods and puts her Blackberry back in her pocket. "And whatever intel you feel comfortable supplying, that's our peace offering. Even if Natasha's already used some of it, even if every name you have has already been investigated and tried, we need to show them that the real you is on the right side."

Bucky nods, but something crosses his face, and for the first time he looks truly nervous. "And what about what I've done?"

"That's up to you," Pepper says. "What's most valuable to them right now are the names of the Hydra agents. Am I right? You've been writing things down for Natasha?"

"Some of those men have probably been dead for ten years," Bucky says quietly.

"Whatever you've got, Bucky. That list is going to be our leverage and our proof of good faith." Pepper takes a deep breath. "Okay. Before I go: Peter, Steve told me you were hit by a car?"

"A little bit," Peter admits.

"You doing okay?"

His face softens. "Yeah."

"Okay. Remember you've got unlimited access to medical downstairs. Jarvis can direct you to your room upstairs." Pepper draws herself up and turns on her heel, walking to the elevator. Steve watches her go.

"Well, fuck," Bucky says quietly.

"You're strangely okay with this," Peter remarks.

"Pepper and Rachel have been hinting toward something like this happening for a while. Honestly, I don't... I mean, I don't want to tarnish Steve's name or anything, but mine, I guess I really don't care."

"But they could  _arrest_  you. I think." Peter swallows. "I mean, there's no statute of limitations on assassinations, is there?"

"It's not going to come to that," Steve says firmly.

"It won't," Natasha says quietly. She's expanding the floating screens and flicking them over to surround the television. "My targets weren't usually as high-profile as yours, but I had more, and without a sterling American hero reputation preceding them."

Bucky sets his jaw and looks away, frowning. Peter gathers up the two game controllers and sets them aside, pulling the MSNBC screen toward himself and watching the scrawler intently.

Steve stares at the floor for a few moments, calculating, before walking over and taking Bucky's hand. "You're definitely okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm going to talk to Pepper."


	36. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Jarvis obediently takes him up to 'whatever floor Pepper just went to', which happens to be her personal quarters - Steve pushes past his first instinct to give her privacy and knocks, waiting until the door finally slides open.

"Steve, I'm a little busy with the entire internet." She's wrapped in a robe, holding a glass of wine.

"I want you to tell me about Dr. Summers," Steve says flatly.

Pepper sighs but nods, opening the door further so he can come in.

It's nicely furnished, and dotted around a very slim laptop are about a dozen hovering screens. Some of them are webpages. Others are live news stations, scrawlers along the bottom. Pepper walks to a bottle of red by the desk.

"Want any?"

"No, thank you."

Pepper nods and takes her seat at the laptop, turning towards him and gesturing for him to sit in an armchair. "Okay. Rachel. Remember when Tony bugged SHIELD?"

"Before the Battle for New York," Steve says slowly. "That's how we found out they were weaponizing Hydra tech."

Pepper nods. "And Tony used Jarvis to do it, and Jarvis, of course, backed everything up. Tony skimmed a bunch of those files later to make sure there wasn't any other really bad dirt. This'll come as a shock, but his trust in Fury wasn't really at peak levels at the time." Pepper notices Steve's 'I can imagine' expression and continues. "I avoided the files for at first, but security concerns finally took precedence. I started to look into the reports on Tony to see if SHIELD had been circumventing our defenses to investigate him."

"I'm not sure where this is going," Steve says slowly.

"Getting there." She flaps her hand. "After finishing Tony's, I found there were  _dozens_  of reports on other potential Avengers... people I'd never heard of. The reject list was pretty cut-and-dry; people that were investigated but cast aside for not being very useful, or not being trustworthy enough, a couple mercenaries, even. But you know what was  _really_  interesting?" She leans in. "The list of people SHIELD wanted and absolutely could. Not. Get. They refused money and fame and guilt trips and whatever else Fury could throw at them. Just wouldn't join."

Things are starting to fall into place. "Rachel Summers was on that list."

"Yes. And I was intrigued. There were more attempts to hire 'Codename Phoenix' than any other candidate. Her file was  _incredible_. 'She gives off readings similar to Asgardians, but different,  _unique_ , suggesting she originated in a dimension that has not yet been discovered. She does not divulge the full extent of her superhuman abilities, but has been seen at several incidents lifting objects remotely, neutralizing threats by making them fall into brief comas, blah blah, we think it's a telepathically-based set of abilities but she won't let us test her...'" Pepper smiles. "You know where she lives now?"

"Where?"

"A lighthouse in Great Britain. Every person who went to try to talk to her said the same thing at the end of their report. 'She says she's been through a lot and wants a break.' Some lone woman from another world, super powerful and putting thieves into temporary comas when they interrupt her monthly grocery runs, just wants to sit in a lighthouse and take it easy." Pepper shrugs and leans back in her chair. "So I called her."

Steve tilts his head. "You... called her."

"She sounded like she needed a friend. I told her I didn't want to hire her or get her to do anything, no joining up, no recruiting... but I was in London every couple of weeks for business and I'd love to get a coffee with her. She said sure, and then, bam. We were friends."

"So Bucky's therapist is a telekinetic telepath from another world."

"Yup." Pepper smiles. "I thought she'd just be a nice person for him to talk to, since she's had some personal experience with being used by bad people. But when I called her up and asked her what she thought of getting to know Bucky and talking a little, she had me get her a plane ticket for the next psych specialists' conference. She strolled through and soaked up knowledge from the most accredited specialists in the world. How incredible is that?"

Steve is having trouble believing this. "She can  _do_  that?"

"She can do a  _lot_ ," Pepper says carefully, "and she's very secretive, and she wants peace and quiet. But. She's really taken to Bucky." Steve nods, but takes too long to respond, and Pepper cants her head. "Is this a lot to absorb?"

"Bruce quadruples in size and turns green. Sam can talk to birds now. I'm good at adjusting." Steve takes a deep breath. "So... Summers will help us through this mess and make sure Bucky's safe."

Pepper nods. "She can't come here to New York. Don't ask - that's its own complicated mess. Not relevant. But we'll meet with her in DC, I'll coordinate something with Natasha to get her in, and she'll be that ace up our sleeve."

"What are we planning to ask her to do?"

"Only completely legal, above-board activities."

"Are these activities legal and above-board because nobody's ever had to legislate restrictions to telepathy before?"

Pepper shrugs amiably.

Steve crosses his arms, digesting this, and stares at the far wall. The world knows about Bucky. Not everything, but they know enough to start asking questions. To start asking where he is. Enough that Bucky might have to come out of the shadows and prove he's not a threat anymore.

"We're really lucky to have you," Steve says after a long pause.

She smiles. "I know."

**

Steve finds Bucky and Natasha are still in the common room - Bucky's curled on his side, head in Natasha's lap. She's stroking his hair. The lights have been dimmed.

"Where's Peter?" Steve asks quietly.

"Sent him to bed," Natasha says, and before Steve can form the words to ask how she did that, he remembers who he's talking to. "Currently working through some 'jail means not being near Steve' feelings here."

"You're  _not_  going to jail."

"I know," Bucky says. "Just."

Steve kneels down and tucks a few locks of hair behind Bucky's ear. His expression isn't too pained, but it's definitely tense. "Why didn't you ever mention your therapist was some kind of...?"

Bucky shrugs. "Wasn't relevant until now." His eyes flicker up to Natasha. "She can control people's minds."

"Glad she's on our side, then." She keeps petting as if he just told her he was thinking about waffles for breakfast tomorrow.

Steve rubs his face and sits on the floor to stay at eye level. "How're you holding up?"

"I know how it'll play out but I'm ..." Bucky takes a breath, making himself say it. "I'm nervous anyway."

"I'll be with you for all of it."

Bucky frowns. "You don't have to. You might not wanna get tied up in all this mess."

"I'm standing by you," Steve insists. "No matter  _what_."

"He's stubborn," Natasha reminds Bucky serenely.

"Yeah," Bucky murmurs, and Steve realizes with a note of surprise and funny jealousy that Natasha  _also_  knows about those spots behind Bucky's ears; the ones which, when stroked gently, for long enough, get him to relax and perhaps even get sleepy. "Serum never did fix that."

"Hmm," Steve says, and sits down when Bucky tugs his legs up to make room for him. "If they offer me another dose, I'll make sure to mention that."

"N'the snoring," Bucky mumbles. "See to that."

Natasha smiles and lays some strands of Bucky's hair across his nose to irritate him.

"Phbbbt."

The elevator doors slide open and Sam comes through, jogging a few steps before stopping and looking up at the dimmed lights. "We okay in here?"

"Hi, Sam." Bucky sits up and grins weakly over the back of the couch. "How was your date?"

Sam's expression softens, and finally breaks into a grin. "A little side-tracked toward the end, but good. How about  _you?_ "

"Weird. Okay. I think I'm gonna cancel my dim sum plans with Darcy tomorrow night and go to bed." Bucky rubs his face a little, getting to his feet and heading to the elevator to his room. Steve watches him go, then looks at Sam.

"I think he's hanging in there," Steve says quietly.

"Yeah," Sam says approvingly. "Now, can someone please tell me who Rachel Summers is and why my girlfriend's NDAs prevent her from telling me herself?"

**

Steve sleeps curled around Bucky that night. Bucky clutches back.

**

The sex in the morning starts off slow but turns frantic towards the end - they have to wait an extra few minutes after showering to go to breakfast because the hand-shaped bruises on Bucky's flesh arm need a little more time to fade. They spend the time tangled up on the bed and watching the news, per Bucky's request.

A small natural disaster in the South. Things heating up in Eastern Europe. They switch back to the Sgt. Barnes story before long, but it's all recaps and conjecture. There's no new intel.

They get dressed and head to the dining area. The extra leaves are in the table and nearly all the chairs are filled, to Steve's surprise; Tony is hunched over a very small, very expensive-looking cup of some kind of coffee. In the corner, Clint and Natasha are catching up in low voices. Bruce is sipping his tea and chatting with Darcy and Jane.

"What happened to the plane stuff?" Bucky frowns, looking at the huge spread on the table and finally reaching out to grab a biscuit.

"Terrible weather for jet assembly," Tony says dismissively. "We'll finish putting it together later. Did we miss anything?"

"You can never be a spy," Jane informs him brightly, and takes her handbag off the back of her chair to unzip it. "Bucky, we brought video games, vanilla bean ice cream's in the fridge, anddddd..." She frowns and pulls out what Steve is pretty sure is called a 'stress ball'. "Really, Darcy?"

Darcy shrugs unapologetically.

"You came to bring me... offerings?" Bucky asks weakly.

"Our offering is waffles," Sam calls out from the kitchen.

"I brought nothing." Tony shrugs. "I've been in your position a couple dozen times before, but more of a paparazzi-caught-me-with-an-ambassador's-hot-wife kind of media flare-ups. I'd lay low and drink a lot of expensive scotch, maybe invite some girls over. I don't..." His eyes narrow and settle on Steve. "...think that solution really translates to your situation."

"It's the thought that counts." Bucky's smile is faint but very genuine, and when Janet bustles out of the other room with a pitcher of syrup and some more biscuits, Steve feels his chest swell a little. Things might turn out alright.


	37. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((RE-UPLOADED))

Steve squints at the fighting game on the screen. "What're you playing?"

"Tech," Bucky says, not turning around.

Darcy snorts. " _Tekken_ , not Tech."

Bucky shrugs and continues button-mashing.

Steve tilts his head. "Is one of you... a bear?"

"His name is Kuma, and that's me," Darcy says.

"This is a weird game," Bucky explains preemptively.

"You mean  _awesome._ " Peter corrects from the ceiling. "But I still pick next game."

" _Bucky_  does," Darcy says, not looking away from the screen. "It's his day."

Bucky's character is brutally destroyed, and so he looks over his shoulder to give Steve a flat but amused look. "This is apparently how people spoil each other in the future."

**

Later, Natasha and Steve lure Bucky to relax with them by the pool after they catch him checking his tablet for the fourth time.

"'Experts are asking if Sergeant Barnes switched sides after being promised power rivaling Captain America's,'" Bucky quotes sourly, scowling at what apparently isn't a text screen but a news website. "Experts? How do you become an expert in... in whatever the fuck my deal is?"

"Fox is fear-based infotainment. Stop checking it." Natasha plucks Bucky's phone from his hand and tucks it in her bag on the ground. "Steve, lock him down. I don't want him near anything with a screen."

"Understood," Steve sighs, and utilizes the lack of space between their recliners to roll onto his side and encircle Bucky in his arms in a comically close embrace.

"Mmph," Bucky protests lamely.

"Sorry, Buck. Romanoff's orders."

"Mmph," Bucky concedes.

Natasha leans over to pat Bucky on the head. "For the millionth time. Pepper's arranging everything. You're going to be fine."

Bucky huffs out a sigh, spreading warm breath across Steve's forearm. "At least I'll get to punch things after this."

Steve frowns. "Punch things?"

"I saw Natasha's tape. She more or less told those suits to go fuck themselves and she still gets to be an Avenger. I figure any public rating of a C- or higher means I can join in with no trouble."

Steve blinks. "Is this why you don't mind the public discovering you?"

"I figure I'm at least, what, four months behind on rent here?" Bucky wriggles halfheartedly. "Gotta start earnin' my keep."

Natasha leans in, hand coming back to tuck some strands of Bucky's hair away from his face. "You know you don't  _have_  to do anything to stay here, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. But. Even before I got shot up with serum, I..." Bucky pauses, frowns, gets a little quieter. "I dunno. I'm sure as hell not gonna let Steve run out there without someone watching his dumb ass."

"He does need someone for that," Natasha agrees.

"You should do what  _you_  want," Steve argues quietly.

"I wanna be with you." It's said without even a moment's hesitation, and so plainly, that Steve is momentarily floored.

**

Sam invites them both to a midday run on the roof, which Steve and Bucky turn into a maddening game of seeing who can lap Sam more times. The game gets slightly more complicated when sparrows appear to fly in front of their faces and cheep distractingly.

"Tell it to get outta my hair," Bucky snaps, swatting gently at the crown of his head.

"I'm not her boss," Sam calls back.

**

Pepper sits them both down for a five minute update. The investigators are taking the informant seriously. There have been extremely private, closed-door meetings about what to do with the intel. No more information is expected to make it to the media. No idea yet what they're going to determine.

If they don't make a decision by tomorrow morning, Pepper suggests they fly down and offer to talk. Bucky agrees and Steve feels an urge to drink, to throw something, to hit someone.

Nobody deserves what Bucky went through. Nobody deserves having to explain themselves after it happened. Bucky deserves to hide if he wants to, but.

Steve might have to come to terms with the idea that it  _isn't_  what Bucky wants.

**

Bucky takes Clint up on his offer to spar for an hour or two. Steve tries to think of something to do other than watch the news, but he can't take his mind off it, and after twenty minutes of pacing and exercising in his room he asks Jarvis to put up the four major news stations.

One is engaged in a split-screen argument between a historian and a recently-retired general. The historian says several unexplained assassinations could be pinned on Sergeant Barnes if the rumors are true. The general is saying it's too early to guess and alludes to some kind of bias on the historian's part. Steve doesn't have the patience to listen to any more. He switches over.

The second station has three World War II historians (one of whom Steve has met and greatly dislikes) arguing over the strength of Sergeant Barnes's character and whether or not he may have been some kind of plant from the beginning. Another is pointing out that the timelines don't add up - Captain Rogers wasn't strategically useful until Erskine and Stark's combined efforts. Did Zola discover who his guinea pig was in Italy and convince him to switch sides then? The third argues the validity of some first-hand accounts of medical experimentation and mind-altering drugs by other POWs from that base. The brainwash theory is solid, he insists.

The third station is postulating that the majority of the DC footage was lost because Hydra wanted Sergeant Barnes's identity to be kept secret so they could continue using him on missions. That he might be out there right now.

The fourth station has an old woman seated in a chair. She is speaking French. A translator's voice plays over hers. She's telling the story about how the Howling Commandos saved her mother's bar from some local bullies in 1943.

"Fighting's not working." Bucky stalks in and shuts the door behind him, nearly slamming it, and hauls Steve to his feet to kiss him feverishly. " _Please_  tell me you're in the mood. To."

Steve swallows and does a quick gesture with his hands to make the screens behind Bucky's head disappear. "To-- ? Yeah, sure." He stumbles a little to find better footing; Bucky's nearly stepping on his feet, he's so close.

"Like... how we did it on your birthday? Do you want to, we could-" Bucky grabs Steve's bicep and starts pulling them towards the wall, and in a moment of clarity, Steve resists and takes Bucky by the hip.

"Hey," he says quietly. "It's okay. Breathe. What do  _you_  want?"

"I dunno, just touch me," Bucky insists quietly. He presses himself to Steve and lets himself be held tightly, tense with pent-up energy that has to get spent somehow.

"You know I'll give you whatever you want," Steve reminds him. He strokes Bucky's back, looking for which trick will be the one to finally get him to ease up, and after a few moments of roaming hands it turns out to be his palms resting firmly at the small of Bucky's back.

"I want..." Bucky says, hesitantly, and then nuzzles Steve's jawline, down his throat; a bad attempt at casually hiding his face. "...can I fuck you?"

Lust swells up in him, and Steve's hands twitch over the thin fabric of Bucky's shirt. "Yeah, Buck," he breathes. "You can do that."

Bucky pulls back a little, just enough to look Steve in the eye and check that he's serious, he's sure. 

"I mean it," Steve adds, and bumps his thickening erection against Bucky's hip to make sure it's very clear.

"Fuck," Bucky says under his breath, eyes wide like he can't quite believe it. Whatever anxiety he had earlier in the day is drained away, and his entire focus is on Steve now - on Steve's body, on tilting his head and kissing Steve just right, on nudging him backwards and backwards until the backs of his calves brush against the bed.

"Mmm," Steve says, and it takes a few tries of pulling back before Bucky doesn't just follow his mouth and kiss it even more firmly. "How d'you want me?"

Bucky gives a last grope to Steve's ass before letting him go. "Um. Turn over. And get your clothes off! I'm gonna, um." Bucky heads for the nightstand as Steve laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and starting to work his pants off.

"You're already worked up. Why didn't you ask for this before?"

"And risk you thinking I didn't want to get fucked anymore?" The bed dips behind Steve as Bucky comes back, and he feels the plastic bottle roll down to rest next to his calf. "Here, get up on your..." Bucky's hands lift him up by the hips, and Steve blinks down at the sheets, feeling his cheeks flush at the position.

"You're just gonna --?" Steve laughs, teasing. "Just skipping the foreplay entirely?"

Bucky makes what Steve can only determine is a competitive growl before shifting on the bed behind him, resettling. Suddenly he feels warm lips pressing against his ass; soft at first, then turning into sucking kisses moving closer and closer to the center. Steve lets out a somewhat undignified sound, tensing, and Bucky's hands curl around his thighs to squeeze and stroke. Bucky's teeth nip gently at one cheek, tongue laving over the spot, and after the first ten seconds of concentrated attention there Steve realizes he's leaving a love-bite there. He laughs, but he can also feel his cock getting heavier between his legs. Is he really going to...?

"Can I?" Bucky asks.

Steve swallows, and as he waits he feels the warm, soft touch of Bucky's tongue going in lazy circles around his hole. He's self-conscious, yes, but Steve's also coming to realize he  _really wants it_  - at least to try it - and while his quiet 'yes' comes out as little more than a whisper, it's enough. Bucky's tongue darts in and flicks, and Steve's whole body locks up at the unfamiliar intrusion. This isn't a toy, it's certainly not his fingers, and he can't even  _see what's going on_. Bucky's hands keep squeezing his thighs, though, and before long he manages to get the ring of muscle to relax, at least a little, and that seems to tell Bucky it's okay to try something other than those gentle flicks.

"Mmm?" Bucky says, and as Steve opens his mouth to answer, Bucky's tongue pushes in deeply, exploring as much as possible, and Steve's answer's lost in a gasp. Bucky nudges Steve's thigh:  _Please answer._

"Yes," Steve forces out, knees widening a little further in hopes that it will give Bucky more access. "Oh my  _God_."

Bucky's rumbling pleased sound is an odd sensation against him. He pulls back a moment for breath, leaving Steve feeling strangely exposed, and he can feel the spit dripping down his inner thigh, warm but cooling. Steve allows himself an impatient huff to communicate his displeasure.

"Let a fella admire for a second," Bucky says. Steve can hear the smirk in his voice.

"If you're gonna do it,  _do_  it already."

"Hmph." Bucky chuckles and the bed shifts again, the bottle disappears, and in what is definitely an intentional move, Bucky uses his leverage (and left arm) to tilt Steve even further until his face is pressed down against the cool cotton, ass even higher up for inspection. The indignant sound he makes is muffled against the sheets - it turns into a moan when Bucky's other hand moves slickly against his cock, the barest tease of a stroke, and his mouth comes back to lick and suck at his opening.

" _God_." Steve pulls in a shaky breath, whining as Bucky pulls back to lap gently. "No, deeper." He ignores the smug grunt behind him, the flush on his cheeks traveling down his throat and chest hotly when he feels Bucky's fingers dig in to the flesh of his ass, parting his cheeks for better access. When Bucky starts  _tongue-fucking_  him, the small cry comes up before he can tamp it down. "That's - yeah, keep... oh." He shifts his legs wider, and as he does the tip of his cock drags against the soft fabric of the sheets beneath him. His body twitches at the sudden jolt of sensation, and Bucky pulls back.

"Hold still," Bucky drawls, "or I won't fuck you."

A spike of real concern goes through Steve, but he rallies just as fast: "As if you aren't-" Steve loses his breath as Bucky pushes one thick finger in, almost all the way, before drawing it back and beginning to pump in a slow rhythm. "-as if you aren't aching for it."

"Who, me?" He sounds, Steve realizes, a lot like his old self; his voice is deep and lilting, maybe a little amused. The pace is matching his mood, too, slow and languid and just this side of driving Steve up the wall. "I dunno. Your pretty ass all propped up like this for me, sweat making your whole back shine pretty as a picture... doesn't do much for me."

" _Jerk_."

"You do this shit to me because you know I love it..." Bucky's finger, not enough, curls inside him. "I do it because I know you hate it."

" _Asshole_."

"Interesting choice of - ow!" Bucky swats at Steve's ankle, which just connected pointedly with his calf. "Hey now, play nice."

" _You_  play nice." Steve considers his arsenal. "Slick me up and fuck me already."

Bucky laughs, but it's a little shaky: "Jesus, Stevie."

"Do you want me to say it again?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I do." Bucky leans down to leave a couple kisses at the small of Steve's back, second finger pushing in. "Every damn day if I can get it."

Steve considers it, shifting to see if he can arch his back the way that looks so inviting when Bucky does it. He wasn't sure how he'd feel like this, so exposed and at someone else's mercy, but the situation is getting Bucky so worked up that Steve is getting a little intoxicated by it. Usually it's Bucky trying to push the envelope and get Steve to crack, and... the reverse is definitely turning out to have its appeal as well.

"Bucky," he says, voice low, "I want you to get another finger in me, get me ready,"

" _Jesus_ ,"

"And then  _fuck_  me."

The room goes a little quiet. Steve glances over his shoulder, trying to gauge if it worked or not, and Bucky stares back at him with a mixture of shock and lust.

"What, you thought I couldn't say it?"

"Didn't think it'd almost make me come from listening to it, is all," Bucky mutters, and manages to make Steve let out a stuttered groan when the third finger pushes in. Bucky's hand hesitates, just barely breaching him, and after a few steady breaths Steve rocks back on it, showing he's ready. "Feeling okay?"

Steve nods after a few more strokes, turning to look forward and then let his eyes drift shut. He feels stretched, but he can't wait much longer, anticipation and lust building up in the base of his spine and making his fingers dig deeper into the mattress. He dips his head down until it presses against the sheets.

"Okay. Okay." Bucky's left hand strokes along his flank, soothing, and when his fingers pull out Steve moans at the loss. "Shh. Don't worry, I'm gonna make it so good for you. It's gonna feel so  _good._ " Steve can hear the sound of the bottle's cap, the sound of skin on skin, and Steve bites back a keening sound, because he can't  _wait_. 

"Before I die of old age?" Steve manages, and Bucky lets out a low laugh, fingertips tracing the curve of his ass, spreading him a little, making him shiver. The feel of Bucky's cock is still a surprise somehow, the velvety-but-hard feeling so alien to that part of him, but when it starts to press in there's just enough give that it feels good.

"Steve," Bucky whines, barely above a whisper. Pressing a little further, a little further. Steve bites his lip. It's starting to burn but he wants all of it. "Stevie, oh God, Stevie, I- f-fuck. Steve."

Steve curls his fingers into the sheets for purchase. One of Bucky's hands - the left one, Steve thinks distantly, it feels a little different, isn't quite as warm on his skin - grips his hip to hold him still and it's too tight a grip, it's perfect, Steve can't breathe and he might come soon. Bucky's still talking under his breath, breaths coming in gasps and stutters, and when he bottoms out Steve adds his own little sharp gasp before biting his lip to shut up.

"So fucking amazing," Bucky's saying.

"Go on," Steve manages, and when he shifts back on his knees a little, the hand on his hip digs in tighter. He's going to have a bruise.

"Fuck. Okay.  _God,_  yeah." Bucky pulls out halfway, taking his time pressing back in, drawing a low moan out of himself before he speeds up and begins to set a pace.

Steve is seeing stars - his fingers never reached this deep, and neither did the vibrator. That's all secondary to the way he can feel Bucky's hips smacking against his skin with every thrust, the entire weight of Bucky's body making Steve rock against the mattress, just a little.

"Please tell me you like it," Bucky is saying from somewhere far away. "Your ass feels so fucking amazing, Stevie, you look so good, please, please tell me-"

"Yes. Yes, yes, keep going." Steve spreads his knees a little further apart, feeling the bead of sweat sliding down his forehead, the bridge of his nose. Bucky shifts above him, and the hand moves. "P-Put it back."

"What? Oh." Bucky lays his hand over Steve's hip, making him groan.

"Tighter," Steve grits, and doesn't quite catch the sound Bucky makes in response; all he knows is that the fingers are digging in tight again and Bucky's hips just snapped hard against his ass, making him see colors. " _God_. Again."

"Steve, you've never-"

" _Again_."

Bucky mutters something under his breath and fucks him harder, losing his rhythm, both hands on him now and pulling him back by the hips to meet every thrust. Steve bites back a high-pitched sound when Bucky's cock brushes close to his prostate, and gets a better position on his knees and elbows to try to direct Bucky back there.

"Stevie, baby, I'm gonna..."

Steve nods his head and reaches down, using the precome to stroke over the head of his cock in quick jerks that make his whole body clench. "Do it."

"You're  _still_  gonna be bossy when I'm... Jesus, baby..." The last word melts into a groan as Bucky surges forward, hips stuttering and losing the rhythm as he comes.


	38. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CONTENT! Contains emotional distress.

When Natasha finally opens the door, Bucky scuffs his bare foot along the carpet, not saying anything. She looks over him, head tilted, before stepping back and letting him in.

"You didn't have a fight," Natasha isn't really really asking so much as saying. "You just couldn't sleep."

"Is it weird if I miss our night-owl sessions?" Bucky smiles awkwardly. "<Even if I was kind of mute for most of them?>"

"<I never did get a chance to braid your hair before you cut it to this length.>" Natasha tilts her head and jerks her chin, giving him permission. "<Get in here. It's all set up.>"

Bucky comes in and frowns at the quilt and pillow on the floor. "<...you knew I'd come?>"

"<One way or another. It's okay to be nervous about the whole world staring at you. If it wasn't going to be Steve going apoplectic and telling you to run away with him to some remote tropical island, it was going to be anxiety.>"

Bucky shrugs and arranges the blanket over himself, fussing until comfortable. When he finally looks up, Natasha's under the top sheet of her bed, leaning over the edge to look down at him in the dark. "<You're still quieter than me. I can't believe it.>" He smiles a little.

There's a pause. "<You know I'd come with you if you asked.>"

Bucky nods and lets his head drop against the pillow. "<I need to trust Pepper's plan.>"

"<I didn't alienate the public  _that_  much during my last DC visit. My bad reputation wouldn't necessarily rub off on you.>"

He takes a deep breath. "<The more people I drag into helping me with this, the guiltier I feel. I've already got Pepper setting her job aside and someone flying over from another continent.>"

"<You know that guilt is bullshit, right?>"

"<Knowing that isn't making the feeling go away.>" Bucky stares at his favorite spot on the far wall, the one imperfection in the otherwise perfect eggshell white. Just a drip of paint that ran too heavy, dried too quick to smooth out. He feels the odd sensation of fingers curling around his left hand, squeezing just hard enough to register.

"<Well, stubborn old man or not, I still want you to text me if you need me.>"

**

Natasha is in the shower when Bucky wakes up. He opens his eyes, blinks, and feels the weight on him, the deep panic of knowing what's coming, and that if he doesn't try to focus, he'll lose himself and be unable to stabilize again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He gets to his feet, folds the quilt back up, and goes to the common area for breakfast.

Steve and Peter and Clint are on the couch watching the news. Bucky decides to ignore it for now, making himself some cereal. As soon as he pours the milk, the sugar smell rises up to his nose. He focuses on that, zeroes in, and in a few breaths he's ready to carry the bowl and a spoon to the table to eat.

"Morning, Bucky."

"Morning," Bucky says to Steve.

"Stuff's happening," Peter says.

"Had to eventually," Bucky responds. Only a few bites in, the cereal's taste has become slightly overwhelming. His grip is bending the spoon a little.

Another breath.

He puts the spoon down, considers abandoning it, and finally decides to give it a minute before trying again. He risks a glance to Steve's expression. It'll tell him everything. "They finally stopped deliberating about whether or not to believe I exist?"

Steve's eyes are... Bucky's not sure he's seen this before. Scared but stubborn. His jaw is doing the thing. "They just had a press conference. They want to find you and investigate the claims."

"Very ambiguous wording," Peter says in a rush. "Very 'finding answers' and 'establishing a clear timeline' and 'determining the nature of involvement'." Bucky squints at him, so Peter translates: "They're hedging their bets on whether or not you're a baddie or you were just  _used_  by baddies. They're not saying either way."

"Pepper's getting a helicopter to take you to the jet," Clint adds, leaning over the back of the couch. "She's not gonna make you get on it."

"None of us are," Steve adds quickly.

 _No remote tropical island_ , Bucky thinks. _Face it. You promised her._ "I'm getting on it."

Peter swallows and nods, drawn back to the screen like he's magnetized to it. "Steve gets to, like, stay with you, right? I mean, if they do closed hearings, or, I think they're pretty sure it's gonna be a dep-"

"Pepper said it could go either way." Bucky forces down another mouthful of cereal before assuring himself he's tried his best and nudging the bowl aside. A drink. He forgot to get a drink. "Regular schmucks get 24 hours before they're charged with something, but. Terrorism suspicions mean they can hold me indefinitely if they want to. They might just hold me and never..."

"They won't," Steve says.

"Rachel'll." Bucky takes a breath. "She'll be there. She can make this work."

**

The helicopter is the same helicopter as before. The pilot is different. Steve sits much closer.

**

The Stark jet is the same jet. The sandwiches are different and Bucky doesn't eat them this time. Steve notices and stops eating his. The flight attendants bring them cups of sparkling water and try to smile.

**

Texts to both their phones. Bucky doesn't feel like looking at it, so he leans against the window and lets Steve read them off. T'Challa sent a thoughtful note. Tony. Bruce. Darcy sent a picture of a cat but Bucky's not in the headspace to translate it into a meaning. His head doesn't feel clear. Things feel like they're reversing. He wants desperately to be told what to say or do and he hates himself for it. He tries to find some kind of stillness in his head. It's the inside of a plane but it's so, so quiet.

**

Before the wheels go down to begin landing, Steve and Bucky's phone chirp at the same time again. Steve reads it. Rachel is here. She is on top of everything. Steve asks some questions about Rachel but Bucky can't quite focus on them. The world outside the window is grey and damp, heavy with rain. Oil has turned the puddles on the tarmac into grey and purple swirls, quivering with new drops. It is okay to get lost in shapes and colors. It is okay to focus on them if they are soothing. Bucky takes deep breaths.

**

There is a throng of people on the landing strip. Security guards are trying to catch them, to stop them. The people have cameras and microphones on poles and Steve is muttering something under his breath, gesturing for the flight attendant, asking questions. Bucky slumps a little in his seat so he can look through the glass, trying to examine the faces that are so far away. If they're curious. Hopeful. Angry. He can't tell.

**

The security guards take a long time to get everyone away. There is a small road just for the baggage cars, and the limousine uses it to drive right up to the plane. It's ferociously loud outside - other, larger planes are taking off, landing, unaware - and Bucky feels the wind gust against his face and tries to focus on it. It doesn't work. He doesn't realize he's been standing immobile at the plane's entryway until Steve's hand brushes against his hip. He starts down the steps and gets into the back of the car.

**

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Bucky tries to put more words together. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm just worried. You're ... you look really spaced out."

"I don't know how else to be calm right now."

"Okay." Long silence. "Whatever you need to do. Just tell me if I can help."

The trees and big office buildings turn into overpasses, into thick traffic, into the city. Bucky looks around, not sure what he's trying to find, and makes himself stop. He looks down at his knees instead, at the suit, and curls and uncurls his fingers before stretching his hand out for Steve to take. Steve takes it.

"You're helping."

**

The traffic is maddening. They aren't moving. They aren't getting there. They have to get to - to the building, he can't remember its name, which building they need to go to, who -

"Bucky?"

\- Pepper told them on the roof, Pepper told them everything, he remembers standing there and breathing deeply and trying to count backwards, he -

"Bucky, look at me."

"I don't know what. What to."

"What year is it?"

"2014. Washington DC. I know it all, I just, I don't, I don't know,"

"It's okay, Buck. I'm here. Nothing's gonna hurt you."

A voice from the front of the car. The driver. They make a sharp turn off the road and to a checkpoint of some kind. The mechanical sound of the driver's window going down. The driver is talking to a security guard and the gate ahead is rising. There is sound pouring in from the lowered window; traffic, slick tires rolling on wet streets, footsteps, shouting voices nearby. Mechanical sounds. Cameras. Bucky looks over his shoulder out the tinted rear window and there is a new crowd, much like the first. Video cameras. People holding microphones reaching toward the car, pressing against a wall of police officers, other people holding microphones facing toward cameras and talking loudly, civilians holding signs and he sees his name but he can't make out the rest of -

"Bucky, don't look at them, look at me."

He turns and looks at Steve. Steve looks back at him, holding his hands, squeezing them both. One feels warm and the other feels like strange pressure, and he focuses on this. The car moves forward. The window goes up. The shouting is shut out. Bucky feels wetness trickling down his temple. He's been sweating.

"It's okay."

"It's okay," Bucky repeats automatically.

Steve nods and the driver says something. "We're not getting out yet," Steve says, not looking away from Bucky, leaning in until their foreheads are pressed together. "Breathe." Steve smells like warm Brooklyn summers and windy afternoons on the fire escape and like comfort, he can't smell like any of those things but he _does_ , and Bucky holds himself still and breathes in again to get more of it. Steve is talking. "...safe with me," Steve is saying. "Are you ready to go?"

"Soon," Bucky promises, and pulls his hands out of Steve's, wipes them on his slacks, starts to prepare himself for opening the door and walking out into the noise. Steve sits and waits. Bucky breathes more. One figure is approaching the car and Bucky tracks it - a DC cop talking into his radio. He stands at rest by Steve's door, waiting. Nobody else. The nearby cars in the lot are unoccupied. By the gate where they just came in, the people - the reporters - have pressed in closer. Lights are flashing. Flashbulbs. He needs to go. He can't wait forever. "Okay."

Steve nods and smiles a little, kind of sadly. He glances over at the driver before leaning in, whispering at Bucky's ear:

"You know I love you, right?"

Something in Bucky's chest tightens.

"Yeah, dummy."

Steve's smiling brighter when he leans back again, eyes on his, and then he's turning, nodding through the tinted window to the cop. The car door opens and Steve steps out, straightening his suit, not reacting to the way the noise just seven meters away rises in pitch and volume as people yell his name, yell questions, yell chants. Bucky can only see him from the chest down now but he knows that body language. Steve's face is a wall now, revealing nothing. When he steps away from the car, Bucky only freezes for a second before scooting down the seat and getting out.

Flashbulbs. Yelling. The security detail is angry, shouting directions at the reporters, gesturing Steve and Bucky to move down another alley to a side entrance on the building. Bucky follows Steve obediently to the door and almost doesn't hear the gunshot over the din.


	39. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: heavy themes of violence and death in this chapter.

The screams are immediate - in the edges of Steve's vision he can see the officer look up and to the left, but Steve focuses on pushing forward, to the door, Bucky hunched and dashing in front of him.

"Did you-"

"I'm fine," Bucky cuts in, his own hands flying over himself, stopping at his left arm - there's the faintest of grazes on the shoulder of his jacket, revealing the white of the button-up underneath. "That was-"

Steve doesn't wait to hear it. He runs out of the narrow hallway and back into the alley, scanning the crowd and the police to see where they're focused and determining the best exit route for a sniper. The officer who opened the car door tries to grab his arm, to say something, but Steve is already running up on top of the limo to get enough height to jump onto the concrete wall, up to the roof, looking down and finally dropping down to follow the sound of screeching tires.

He lands with a thud, broken glass crackling under his shoes. A blur with black clothing and a gym bag twenty yards ahead is running towards an idling Jeep with skid marks behind it, and if it weren't for one bad stumble Steve might not have made it in time to catch him by the arm and throw him into the cracked brick of the alley. The sound of thick muscle connecting with the wall is shrouded by the new screech of tires - the Jeep is escaping. Steve doesn't care.

The man - he is a man - drops to the ground with a sick thump, but to his credit he gets back to his feet, dropping the bag full of dissembled gun parts, eyes bright behind a simple ski mask. Steve's stomach drops as he realizes he knows him.

"You son of a bitch."

"Still not personal," Rumlow says, and it sounds like he's smiling. "Just made a promise, is all."

Steve closes in and throws the first punch, missing by a millimeter, catching Rumlow's answering right hook and crushing it in his hand. He hears bones crack. He doesn't care. Rumlow's eyes widen and then narrow, and when he shifts his body weight Steve knows he's going to kick as hard as he can, hopefully just enough to get free, and Steve just stands there and takes the impact to his kneecap because he does. Not. Care. The bones in Rumlow's right hand shift and compress and crack further in his grip and he finally releases it, seeing the other hand dangling uselessly - dislocated, probably from the throw to the wall - and so Steve grabs him by the collar and throws him to the wall again, watches him drop, picks him up and punches him in the jaw. The skin and bone feel fragile under his fist. It feels good. He wants to do it again.

Doesn't.

"I should kill you," Steve hisses, ripping the mask off. There are faded burn scars and he _is_ smiling. Everything in Steve's body is screaming to kill. The snake beside him all those months, the man who -

"You won't, though." Rumlow's head tips back enough for him to show off the blood seeping from his mouth. "S'what's so funny about you."

A familiar sound overhead. Steve looks up - War Machine is lowering down, one hand extended toward Rumlow like a leveled gun. Something like disappointment drops heavily into Steve's gut - this was  _personal_ , this was something he wanted to take care of himself, something he  _owed_  this son of a -

"Looks like you already got him," Rhodey says, voice mechanical and alien through the mask.

"Black Jeep, headed west," Steve grits out. "DC license plate-"

"Already taken care of." War Machine lands heavily a few meters away from Steve and looks left, the way Steve came from, then tilts his head a little. "The locals are on their way."

"It was a pleasure working with you, Cap." Rumlow coughs wetly and works his mouth, and Steve gets a flashback to the first time Bucky was in Tony's workshop until he realizes what Rumlow might be doing.

" _No_. No, you don't get to-" Steve grips his jaw and holds it open, trying to pin the struggling man against the wall again so he can find the false tooth. Behind him, War Machine's suit whirrs.

"Our work's done for us. It's right here."

"What?" Steve's head whips around. "You have it?"

Rhodey's looking at something between his fingers; his head is canted in the way Tony's does when he's using Jarvis to examine something. "Not quite as old school as cyanide, but's definitely got something in it that should come with a warning label. Ah, there we go." War Machine steps back as the officer in bulletproof vests file in, guns out.

Steve tamps down the desire to see more blood, to crack more bones, and complies when they ask him to hand the suspect over to be detained.

**

"This way."

"How did he get  _through_? Isn't there a-"

"Cap, I'm getting all that and more in my ear, right now, you - are you with me right now?"

"Yes."

"I'm getting the story, and you'll get it too. I need you to go get yourself together in the annex building."

"I need to find Bucky, I need to tell him-"

"Bucky's fine. He's in some max security shit right now.  _For his safety._  Pepper's in my ear, she says annex, so I'm telling you annex."

"..."

"Same way you were going before. Go to the wash room in there, get yourself cleaned up, wait."

"Wait for  _what?_ " 

"The few times in my life Pepper explicitly tells me what to do, I listen. I gotta go, man. You've got this. Bucky's got this. You're halfway there."

**

Steve walks. The news crews are gone. Distantly, about three blocks away where they must have roped things off, he hears them. Distressed voices. Vehicles. It's white noise.

The limo is still there. He walks around it, walks around the cops clustered around where the bullet hole must be in the wall, and goes through the door. Ignores the men inside directing him to sit down. Goes to the wash room and locks it.

**

Minutes pass. Steve finally looks in the mirror. His knuckles are bloodied and there is a smear of red in his hair, on his shirt. He doesn't remember running his hand through his hair. He rinses off his hands, wipes them through his hair, decides the smear on his shirt is a foregone conclusion.

Bucky is somewhere. Steve had promised he'd go with him. He'd promised.

The lock mechanism on the door turns. Steve looks over his shoulder and stares as a woman walks in and shuts the door behind her. Somehow, as if by magic, the mechanism turns and locks again.

She doesn't look like Steve remembers from that first teleconference, when he'd been so distracted by Bucky's condition that he'd barely looked at the faces on the screen. This girl is  _young_ , maybe in her early twenties, tall and slim with natural red hair in a spiked pixie cut. She looks calm, smiling, and something about that infuriates Steve - sets light to the apprehension and the barely-calmed heat in his blood. He's in her personal space before he has a chance to check himself. She just tilts her head up enough to keep looking him in the eye.

"Nice to meet you," she says evenly. "I'm Rachel."

"You failed him." His voice is cold, fueled by the remaining adrenaline. "He nearly  _died_."

Rachel tilts her head, looking at him with something like mild disappointment. She sidesteps him and leans against the spot on the wall between the paper towels and the hand dryer. She's wearing, he finally notices, a pant suit with a press badge clipped to the jacket pocket. "Let's do a quick recap before you lose your temper for the second time in one day. Hear me out, alright?"

"Losing my temper is a-"

" _Alright?_ "

A beat. He works his jaw, staring her down. She continues. "The sniper's bullet missed." She counts 'one' on her hand by holding up one finger. "While fleeing, the sniper tripped on his own feet, allowing you to catch up with him." She holds up a second finger. "The getaway car blew a tire turning a corner just a few blocks from the on-ramp, allowing the cops to block them in and shut them down before they made it to the highway." 'Three.' "Meanwhile, back in that alley, the sniper tries to bite down on a cyanide tooth which has conveeeeniently fallen out of his mouth with your punch, a punch which didn't even land far back enough in his jaw to  _reach_  his molars. So far, this leaves you with an unharmed James Buchanan Barnes, a clumsy man with poor terrorist dentistry, and some over-inflated tires on a swanky Jeep with stolen plates."

The young woman lets that settle in a moment, four fingers held up, before tucking her hands away in her jacket pockets and relaxing into another easy smile. "I know that wasn't fun for you, and I get that. But Bucky's fine and we've got exactly the footage we needed for him: Hydra tried to kill him and Captain America saved the day. No offense, but I've heard the stories of you trying to pull off a lie, and it was better not to tell you in advance that I was expecting a hit attempt and that I was gonna take care of it. Cameras everywhere. If you'd pushed Bucky down a  _second_  before the shot went off, modern news media would be replaying that frame by frame for the next two months."

Steve stares at her, forcing himself to take in a deep breath as he crosses his arms."All that forethought," he says quietly, "but did you account for the fact that I nearly beat that man to death back there?"

Rachel doesn't frown or move away. She just holds up all five fingers. When Steve doesn't respond, she sighs, actually looking a little unhappy for the first time since she walked in. "I don't like controlling people. Especially good people! But you were about to straight-up mash his face in, and that doesn't help your image and it doesn't help Bucky. Let Brock be the face of the Hydra stragglers that know Bucky has valuable information and wish he was dead. Shows Bucky clearly as an escapee of theirs, not, you know, a turncoat."

"Pepper never mentioned you took PR classes."

Rachel grins. "You're really untrusting, Steve. I legitimately respect that." 

Steve takes a deep breath and leans one hand against the sink counter. Rachel stands patiently, waiting for him to collect himself. "You can read minds," Steve says quietly.

"And move stuff around," Rachel says, nodding. "The bullet, the tire, the tooth. The lock just now."

"Right. So you know where Bucky is?"

Rachel nods and actually points, downwards and between them, so presumably he is on a floor underground. Steve nods.

"He's okay?"

"He's okay," Rachel confirms. "I'm keeping tabs on him. I'm keeping tabs on the two guys escorting him through security. They've patted him down, scanned him, they're figuring his arm out now."

Steve shuts his eyes. "Then what?"

"Then they start the deposition as soon as he's cleared. It's gonna be in about... eighteen minutes. Bucky's still got the flash drive Natasha gave him of all the names and everything he's written down. He's gonna read from that and then hand it over and they're gonna ask him some questions about how he came to be with Hydra. He's gonna answer. Then..." Rachel trails off, looking into the empty space between them. "Bucky says hi."

Something in Steve's chest twists.

"He says he's okay, because he knows..." She pauses, as if waiting for someone to finish a sentence. "That you're nearby. And that you and I are keeping him safe." Then, with something between a soft smile and a pout, "And he loves you back."

**

**

The asset was not sure of every detail, but he knew this ongoing discussion was a private one. The asset waited until the other agents had left the van to use the rest stop. The man with the short dark hair was sitting across from him, frowning, head tilted back against the wall of the vehicle.

"I completed the assignment," the asset reported.

The man sat up immediately and leaned forward, staring into his eyes. The asset obediently diverted his and looked at the floor. "The  _assignment?_ " The man asked. "...you mean, you finally actually thought of something you want."

"Yes," the asset said. It was a very atypical assignment to be given, and it took several days. It was fortunate that the primary mission involved so much waiting for a clear shot - the man with an armed guard had been tipped off to stay away from windows. It was acceptable to spend the down time thinking on a secondary assignment.

And once the idea had dawned on the asset, it had seemed extremely simple and obvious. He had thought back to his initial training, the women and children who had had wide eyes and screamed in fear, who shouted themselves hoarse begging, who soiled themselves or clawed ineffectively or became blind with tears and simply reached toward him, afraid but reaching out in his direction, a gesture that was always confusing.

Their faces had crumpled up in sharp lines with wet streaks or had gone completely still, as if stunned even though they had not been. No matter how they fought or did not fight, once they were killed they were the same. No matter what the targets on missions had been doing, how they had been acting, once they were killed they were the same too. Their body was not tight anymore, did not thrash or make harsh sounds, but rather laid still and loose and their face was calm and soft. Even when parts of their face were missing or malformed from the bullet hole, even if a look of surprise happened to cross their face just before the mission was successful, the expression was gentled when they dropped to the ground and no longer fought. No longer tried to be free. No longer tried to run away.

"... _is_  it. Hey." The dark-haired man snapped in the asset's face. "Come back. What  _is_  it."

The asset continued to look obediently at the floor. "I would like to be dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rachel Summers](https://31.media.tumblr.com/6f1ea334abfab5b9099c89771d0480e3/tumblr_inline_nft918XIsO1qgae8o.jpg): Karen Gillan.


	40. Peter

While testing the cuffs, Peter rehearses his speech in his head.

_Hey, guys, you know how you said I shouldn't go visit that lawyer guy in the hospital? Murdock? Funny story. I visited the lawyer guy in the hospital! And just like you said, some guys jumped me and kidnapped me. They shot me full of-_

"Hey," Peter says, leaning weakly against the cuffs. He jerks his head toward the goons sitting on the other end of the lab. "What'd you shoot me up with, anyway?"

"Shuddup."

"You should know I'm allergic to penicillin."

"Save it for when the boss comes."

"Fine." Peter leans back, muscles feeling not unlike a miscellaneous collection of noodles, and looks up at the ceiling. "If you nabbed me to formally apologize for whole 'hitting me with a car' thing? Don't worry about it. I get that you guys must feel bad, but I slapped some band-aids on it, did some aquatic exercises, I'm okay now. The past is behind us."

The goon rolls his eyes.

_So, like, I'm really seriously sorry for not listening to you guys. You're the pros. I'm just a lowly noob who should have heeded his elders. Mea culpa._

Peter gives up on the cuffs - who even _has_ cuffs installed against a lab wall? - and keeps looking around. On a small table in the corner are his cell phone and the sad little wad of cash he keeps in case he feels like a hot dog to keep his web-slinging energy up. Most superheroes would be, like, disarmed. For him? All there was to take was his iPhone and his eight bucks. Ugh.

There are some footsteps outside, and then the laboratory door opens. A new goon is holding the door for a huge man in a white suit. Peter perks up, finally recognizing a face in all this mess.

"Willy!"

Wilson Grant Fisk's eyes narrow, just a little, but he otherwise doesn't react. He's setting a briefcase on a desk and opening it up, looking at the contents. Peter keeps talking.

"I recognize you; you're the guy Murdock's been building a case against. Man, you really wear cravats? I thought that was just some mugshot thing, you know, 'serving up some vintage mafia realness'. You actually dress like that all the time?" No response. "C'mon, Willy, you invite me over to your creepy rented space in the Oscorp labs and you don't even want to talk?"

"If you insist on that monicker, your time will be even more unpleasant than necessary."

"Okay, okay, I got it. Big bad guy.  _Really_  big bad guy. Got a bad-ass tiepin thing in your neckerchief, working on taking over the greater New York syndicate, you probably want some bad-ass -- ooh. Ooh. Kingpin!"

A previously unseen vein makes itself known in Fisk's forehead.

"Kingpin's a good name," Peter continues. "You wear all white, you've got the bald thing going on, maybe if you get your own arch nemesis that's really spherical and wears bla-"

"I can do all of this without bringing you undue pain,  _Spider-Man_ , but if you insist on aggravating me, I am perfectly capable of getting my results while also bringing you quite. A lot. Of suffering." Kingpin pulls out an injecting gun that looks a lot like the empty one on the table. "My business partner and I have several questions for you regarding Stark Tower's security systems, and if you make it clear that you aren't interested in cooperating, well..." Kingpin picks up the injector. "The dose you got at the hospital was for incapacitation. Think of this one as a spin on the old-fashioned sodium pentothal."

Peter squints at the logo on the side of the gun. "Your business partner sure has a lot of Oscorp R&D access. And. Someone's got a patent on Veritaserum? Does Rowling know?" He leans away from the gun, but suddenly the gun is gone. Actually, all the light is gone. Is that the sound of the air conditioning turning off? Is this a brownout?

The goon is saying something to his left. Peter looks over, but it's dark. Super dark.

 _The thing_ , Peter's mind insists.  _You have the thing now._

He blinks behind the mask for a few seconds, willing his brain to be more helpful until the memory rises to the surface - Tony frowning over his costume, using little tweezers to insert tiny chips into his mask, the spider emblem on his chest, and a glove.

 _'Spider recovery system,'_ Tony had said.  _'Everyone but Widow has a few of these in their outfits now. Just in case.'_

It's definitely Thursday, right? Because Peter visited the hospital late Wednesday night, which would make this Thursday morning. Because the note on the fridge said he was due to come back-

Someone knocks something over in the dark. Peter flinches.

"You idiot," Kingpin growls, "stop panicking. There's a backup generator on premises." There's a moment of quiet, and slowly, red lights rise up, which is kind of spooky in Peter's opinion, and the whirr of the air conditioning comes back. Peter grins behind his mask while Kingpin says something to the one of the goons, who picks up a gun and leaves.

"My sensei's gonna kick your ass," Peter singsongs.

"Mr. Stark is enjoying himself at a celebrity event halfway across town, young man."

"Mr. Stark is  _not_  my sensei." Peter feels a joyous thrill as, right on time, the red lights shut off and the air conditioning shuts down again. "Is there a  _second_  generator on premises?"

There are some footsteps - Fisk is backing away from him, and the other guy is stumbling toward the door. Both footsteps stop when there's a shout and a thud outside. The faint buzz of Peter's spider-sense begins to fade away into nothing. He beams and does an excited wiggle until he realizes he's not going to be able to see any of what's about to happen. Un _fair_.

"Freeman!" Fisk barks. "Secure the door and-" There's the bang of someone kicking the door open, and then a gunshot, and then the clack of a gun dropping, and then another gunshot just as a body falls, and then another gun clack, and another, much heavier body, and then... Peter kind of loses count, but after a while it's definitely quiet.

Peter waits for some kind of greeting, a voice, but instead there's a sudden light to his left, where his phone and money was put. It's his iPhone's lock screen, and Bucky's face is illuminated by it. He's wearing goggles Peter's never seen before.

"Seven missed texts from Jarvis," Bucky reports coolly.

"...did you..." Peter can't see the bodies on the floor.

"They're alive."

"Oh." _Jeez._ "Great. Um. Welcome back?" Peter tries. "Congrats on the presidential pardon. And, um the medals of-"

"What'd you do to get kidnapped, Parker?"

Peter winces. "I, um, I did the thing."

Bucky turns his head to look at him. "What'd they put in you?"

"Muscle relaxers, basically." Peter does his best impression of Jake the Dog while still shackled, a reference Bucky should get now, but Bucky just rolls his eyes and pockets the phone, leaving Peter in darkness.

He hears shuffling and then rifling, jingling, and then Bucky's holding his wrist in place and jingling - keys! It must be the key thing for the shackle thing. As soon as both are unlocked, Peter reaches out for a clumsy hug in the dark, ignoring the awkward squirm and giving it a solid eight seconds.

"You got here just in the nick of time, man. ...thank you."

A beat. "Can you walk?"

Peter leans against the wall, then slides down it. "Not really."

"Can you see?"

Peter blinks several times. "Nope."

Bucky pulls something out of his belt and it turns out to be a flashlight. He holds it out to Peter, who takes it and points it at the floor. "When we get back, Stark's gonna put some infrareds in your mask."

"Cool."

"What woulda been 'cool' was getting off my red-eye flight and not getting a call from a computer saying your tracking chips were sedentary and you weren't answering your phone. It's five in the morning!"

He holds the flashlight a little tighter. "...I'm sorry."

A long silence. Then Bucky sighs, and kneels down next to him. "You're definitely okay?"

"Yeah."

Bucky nods. A couple seconds pass. "So how is he?"

"Murdock? Um, he's, he's stable. They say he's gonna be blind for the rest of his life, but otherwise he's healing really well. He seems like he's gonna bounce back."

"That's something." Bucky looks him over a few times. "If I give you a minute, can you walk outta here with me?"

Peter swallows, kicking one leg out and giving his toes a test-wiggle. "Yeah." He peers over at the silhouettes on the floor. He's really relieved to see some sort of weird dart sticking out of Kingpin's neck. "So, you got a tranquilizer gun, huh?"

"Yeah. They'll be up in five to eight hours... Tony makes good tech." Bucky shifts. "So. Catch me up while we wait for that stuff to work outta your system."

"Uhh." Peter bites his lip, trying to switch gears. "Jan's been holed up in the labs for almost a week. She did some big bio experiment and she's gonna show us when she comes over for dinner tomorrow? Even Sam doesn't know what it is."

"More bananas?"

"She said something about wings? Osteoclast wings...? Maybe it's something for Sam's rig." He giggles. "Or, hey, winged bananas."

"That's definitely it," Bucky says wryly. "What else?"

"Darcy and Bruce broke up, but Darcy and Hulk are still a thing, which officially breaks my brain."

Bucky leans in. "Wait, what?"

"I dunno?" Darcy had said a few things about 'separate consciousnesses' and 'boundaries' and then sort of stuffed her face with waffles when Peter asked if everything was okay, and Peter's pretty sure that that discussion, while vague, was in confidence. "Everyone seems happy."

A prolonged silence. "...okay."

"Oh!" Peter sits up a bit straighter. "Pepper's had a bunch of dudes jack hammering or something upstairs, and now a bunch of rooms are done." He grins. "She says, um, that I get one! You know, for when I'm too busted up to go sleep at Aunt May's, I guess. That's really cool. Oh, and she said she knocked down one of Steve's walls."

"What? Why?"

Peter blinks. "To make it ... bigger. Like."

"Oh. Because--?"

" _Yeah_ , dude."

"Oh." Bucky actually sounds slightly self-conscious, which Peter chalks up to 1940's Queer Feels.

"Did he not tell you? I thought she talked to him on the phone about it."

Bucky actually laughs. "I've been behind seventeen different concrete walls since that fucking gunshot - Steve and I didn't see each other again until the plane ride back up here."

But it's been like three weeks. "So what's he been  _doing?_ "

"According to Rachel, hanging out in his DC apartment waiting for me like a damn guard dog." There's definitely a smile in Bucky's voice. "She spent a little time with him and I think they... talked? Which is good?"

"Maybe he'll talk to someone now," Peter muses, and then remembers that discussing that stuff is kind of a faux pas. "Um, I mean, why shouldn't he? War. Superhero stress. I'm not trying to, you know, say anythin-"

"His boyfriend's insane, too," Bucky interrupts wryly. "Lotsa things for that guy to get off his chest."

"Yeah." Peter grins.

"You know how planes have televisions in 'em now?"

"Yes," Peter says, pretending that hasn't been a thing since he was like five.

"I watched some of the coverage on the way up here... you know that whole time I was walking up to the door and there were those protesters, I never noticed what the signs said."

"Oh, 'Free Our Hero'?" Peter tilts his head. "It was trending on Twitter and... yeah, it was kind of a big thing. But I saw the footage too, you looked a little, um, caught up in what was going on."

"I guess I never wanted to assume people would believe I was the good guy."

"You've always been a good guy."

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Peter stretching his arms out and then drawing his knees up to his chest. When he sets the flashlight up to start doing shadow puppets on the far wall, Bucky scoffs and smacks him upside the head.

"Oh! Another new thing. Stark finally finished the jet."

"I know  _that_  part," Bucky says, biting back a laugh.

"Whaddaya sound so smug about?"

"Well, how do you think I  _got_  here so fast?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, last chapter, several things.
> 
> 1\. A final thanks to [Bluandorange](http://bluandorange.tumblr.com/), who, again, did all the art for this story, and is so so talented. I don't think this story would be as good if it didn't have art, or if it had different art. The art it has is the perfect art. :3  
> 2\. A final thanks to **you guys**. Anyone who's ever left a comment on a chapter or sent me [an ask](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/ask) on Tumblr gets to feel a special squiggly-warm feeling of pride for being part of what kept me going all these 80 chapters. For me to keep writing a fic I need inspiration and, I'll admit, support. You guys supply the second half and as always, my cold ichor-filled heart pulses with appreciation.
> 
> I might try and do an AMA or something for any final questions on this 'verse, as I think this is the end for it, so follow me on [Tumblr](http://fieldbears.tumblr.com/) for that, or follow the it's not linear or ficbears tags, or, idk, do whatever makes you happy. That is the important thing.
> 
> <3.


End file.
